


A Caster's Curse

by kennapaige260



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anti-Magic Racism, Anti-Monster Racism, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Humans, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Magic, Mentions of Death, Minor Violence, Monsters, Multi, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Strong Language, Undertale Saves and Resets, Witches, no beta we die like men, spellcasters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennapaige260/pseuds/kennapaige260
Summary: It is a caster’s curse to be long-lived, to be plagued with memories.But it is my curse to never die.Timelines come and go, people live and die, towns are built and destroyed. I have lived so long, encountered so many, forgotten so many more. The world around me is ever-changing. My presence, death, and resets are the only constant I have ever known. And hope. Hope that one day, I will find a place to settle down and live without interruption, without others’ fear and mistrust at what I am. The hope that one day, I will find someone who will stay by my side, no matter what. Someone who can see through the resets, who can still remember me.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 67





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> All known and recognized characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their rightful creator Toby Fox.
> 
> I own the plot and any original characters unless otherwise specified.

No matter how many of them I am forced into, dungeon cells are never pleasant. I reflect on this thought as I tip my head back against the wooden post behind me, eyes closed and breaths even. No matter what town or city or little village I find myself in, no matter how many people I meet and befriend, it always ends the same way: fear, hatred, and then ultimately, another cell. I always end up being in a dungeon, a cage, a basement, a room. No matter how dark and dingy or bright and comforting the space, they are all meant for one purpose—to contain me.

To contain me until I am led to my death by the hands of those who were previously called friends.

The little town of Ebott’s Hollow has proven to be no different. I had arrived here nearly four moon cycles ago, welcomed with open arms and bright smiles wherever I looked. I had settled down quickly, made a home for myself just outside of the village, in the forest at the foot of Mount Ebott. I made a living selling apothecary cures and remedies, made from the very herbs and such in my back garden. People came to me with smiles and gratitude for healing whatever ailments they had. Without a proper doctor in the town, I quickly became the next best thing. I set and bound broken bones. I treated cuts and burns. I cared for the sick and the healthy alike. I made friends. Most nights saw me at the only pub, laughing and drinking with the others.

And then just last week, it came to an abrupt end.

I had been in my garden, tending to my herbs, when I noticed some damage to my plants. Half-eaten leaves, broken stalks, wilting. It happens. It is nature. And, as it is in _my_ nature, I lifted my palm and allowed my magic to pool in my hand, coming in the form of a lively purple glow bespeckled with red, before brushing my fingertips over the damaged sections. The leaves regrew, the stalks mended, the wilting vanished—everything was perfectly fine, until the scared, panicked shout echoed through the air. When I looked up, I saw little Kris, the farmer’s boy, running away in terror. I could have gotten away. If I had just packed my bare essentials and fled, I would not be in another cell. Running does not solve problems. I have always believed in the power of kindness, that the kindness you share with others will come back to you, but I have yet to be proven right.

Alas, this town had not changed that either. The guardsmen came, binding my arms with rope and my mouth with cotton to prevent me from saying any spells. I let them without resistance, let them silence me if only to put them at ease. Spellcasting is not something as fickle as a magician’s weak power—we have no need to speak to use our magic. But I do not fight as I am led back to town, paraded through the streets and then locked in this cell. I was put on trial, but not allowed to defend myself, for I was never allowed to speak and explain for fear that I would curse them all. Even now, I am still not allowed to speak, cotton fabric tied about my head. After the trial, my rope bonds had been traded for iron, chained to the wall with such little give that I am unable to reach the small cot just behind me, so I have spent my days sitting on the cold, packed dirt floor, leaning against the foot of the bed. I have been sentenced to death, although there has been no specification on how I am to die. Death in itself is nothing new to me, either. I have been crushed, burned, drowned, starved, beaten, cut down, impaled. I’ve had my limbs mangled, my intestines removed, been dissected alive. I have been beheaded many different times. Staked a couple dozen. Hung more times than I can count.

And every single time, I would… _reset._ I would be back to where I began, days, weeks, moon cycles prior, just before entering a new town or village or city. No one would remember me. Days passed the same, events never changing, never deviating from the set path of fate. During my younger decades, I had tried a few separate times to continue living in whatever place it was. I would befriend people all over again, try to change my fate, but it would never last. Humans age, and I do not. While put down to good breeding at first, as more time would pass, the people around me would grow suspicious. A few times I would slip, reveal my magic or anticipate too many events to be brushed aside, and I would be killed again. I do not go through such motions now—I simply restock my supplies and move on to the next place.

I breathe a small, quiet sigh. No, the cells are never pleasant, and death is never welcomed, but neither am I. Because of what I am, of what I can _do,_ humankind will never trust or accept me.

Heavy footsteps and the clank of metal echo down the hall and gathers my attention. Vaguely curious, I open my eyes and move my head back up, staring between the bars and waiting. They stop in front of me, and I know that my stay in this cell has come to an end. It is unlikely the town Elders have changed their minds and will let me free. Before me, I see Micha, the blacksmith’s son. Tall, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, golden hair, and determined blue eyes, it is very clear to me why Hedda and Christine and most of the other young females in town are attracted to him, though I do not feel its allure. I watch calmly as he unlocks my cell door with a pained grimace. Out of everyone in this town, he is the only one who will speak to me without malice or fear. He genuinely believes that I am not a spellcaster, and regularly speaks out against my imprisonment. It has not done much good, but I appreciate it when he stops by most nights and just sits outside my cell, speaking to me. He tells me stories of heroes and monsters, of a great war between them. It is an old legend in this town. It is said that hundreds of years ago, humans and monsters coexisted peacefully on the surface together, until one day, the humans attacked. Led by Ebott the Determined, humans drove the monsters underground and sealed them below a mountain, which was named after him, as was this town.

Even though I cannot respond, it is nice when Micha sits with me. Every few decades or so, I’ll find someone like him—a disbeliever, or one who genuinely does not care about my heritage. Unfortunately, it always ends the same way with them as well: they try to speak out in my defense, and are either reprimanded sharply, shunned for their words, or imprisoned and killed alongside me. They come back after the reset, blissfully ignorant of the pain I caused them, though my own memories never fade.

Micha sighs heavily, kneeling down in front of me to unlock my wrists. “Please refrain from moving, Hope,” he instructs quietly, voice tight with anger and resentment at my treatment. I nod and hold still. _Hope_ is a name I have taken a few different times over the span of a century or so. It represents my hope that one day, things will be different for me. That I can finally live my own life without being feared and hunted. I have long since abandoned using my true name. For spellcasters, names hold power. Giving one’s true name freely is dangerous, and if it were to fall into the wrong hands, we could be used for nefarious purposes. The heavy iron manacles fall from my wrists,clattering to the ground loudly, and his fingers gently rub over the chafing on my skin for a few seconds. The contact is… strange and foreign, but not necessarily unwelcome. I watch him calmly, not moving a muscle as previously instructed. Then Micha sighs again, lifting his fingers away, only to return with rope. “It is time. I am to escort you up Mount Ebott, where you will be cast into the Chasm.” I stay silent, still unable to speak through the fabric in my mouth.

Death by damnation—that is new.

When my hands are tightly and thoroughly bound in front of me, Micha helps me to my feet and begins leading me out of the dungeon. For the first time in a week, I am led outside. The sunshine feels like warm heaven on my skin, and the fresh air clears the heaviness from my lungs, but the angry, distrustful stares of the townspeople lining the street prevent me from enjoying anything for too long. Cries of outrage and hate begin, but at least there are no stones thrown. I keep my eyes straight ahead, chin level, allowing the insults of the fearful to slide off of my shoulders with no consequence. Humans fear things they do not understand. That is their nature. I allow Micha to guide me, but none follow us down the street.

“The Elders and the Captain are already waiting at the Chasm,” Micha informs me quietly as we walk. “No one else is allowed to climb the mountain. It is forbidden.” I, of course, say nothing in response. Soon we are out of the town and headed into the woods at the foot of the mountain. We walk past what used to be my cottage, but it has been torn down brick-by-brick. I can see the glass bottles that used to contain my remedies and poultices smashed and scattered about. My garden has been trampled and torn up. I ignore the stinging pain of loss as best I can, because this is nothing new. When humans experience fear, they lash out to protect themselves. That is their nature, as magic is mine. Since I was locked away, untouchable, my house and belongings were the next best thing to slake their fear on. I avert my gaze from the mess and back to my feet, content to revel in the calm quiet of the forest. I am not afraid. I am not nervous. I am not even angry or sad. I am simply… tired. _Tired_ is a horrible descriptor for the bone-deep, heavy feeling in my very soul, but it is the best I have. We wind deeper into the forest, deeper than even I have explored, until the ground beneath our feet sets off at an incline. As we continue, the trees begin to thin out, allowing for the rising sun to bear down on us without cover. If I were human, I would be sweating and out of breath, like Micha is beside me. But I am not—and despite my appearance, I have never been and will never be human.

A little ways up the mountain, Micha allows us to stop for a brief few minutes. Despite the moisture causing his hair to flatten to his temples, he ignores himself in favor of helping me sit on a fallen tree. He then glances over both shoulders, as if nervous there are watchers all around, before lifting his hands to my face and carefully unhooking the strip of cotton from my mouth. It falls around my neck, sitting against my collarbone, leaving a dry taste on my tongue and a lingering ache in my jaw. Micha offers a waterskin, to which I drink from greedily. I can feel him watching me, feel the pity and anger in his gaze.

“This is not right,” he mutters as I pull back from the water. He replaces the stopper and stores the skin away on his belt once more. “You have done nothing to harm us.” When I look up at him, I can see the spark of righteousness in his eyes and know I must put an end to it before it turns to madness.

“Do not,” I tell him simply, even as his hands twitch towards the rope entangled about my wrists. “You will only cause trouble for yourself, Micha.”

Micha lets out a growl, kneeling down in front of me to look up at my face. “Hope, you must see reason,” he pleads. “They are going to _kill_ you. They are going to kill you because Kris claimed you to be using _magic._ ”

I nod. “Yes,” I say, “they will.” It is inevitable at this point. Whether he believes me to be a spellcaster or not is of no importance. I will not allow him to throw away his future here by attempting to spare me. I will not risk them throwing him into the Chasm with me.

Micha glares at me, eyes flashing. “How are you so _calm_ about this?” He all but shouts, voice echoing off the stone of the mountain. “How are you simply fine with being murdered for no real reason?”

I tip my head to the side, unaffected by his words or emotions. “How are _you_ so angry about a life that is not yours?” I question in return, causing him to recoil as if I have slapped him about the face. “What you consider to be _no reason_ does not sit with the others, and since neither you or I have any say in this matter, there is no reason to be upset. There is only acceptance. I accept my fate, Micha—you should as well.”

Micha stands, and it is silent for a long moment before, “That is not good enough. I cannot just stand by and let someone innocent die.”

“You can, and you will.” I level a calm look at his furious eyes, willing him to understand, to see reason in my words. “I will not run. Running does not solve problems. When you begin running, you never stop.” I stand, managing to keep my balance with my bound hands. “Come. We should not linger and risk bringing the Elders’ wrath upon your head as well.”

“I do not care about that,” Micha scoffs, but continues our trek, a hand on my elbow to steady me.

I am quiet for a long while, and then softly say, “You should.” I feel his gaze return to me, but refuse to meet it. “What do you think would happen should you let me go? The Elders would claim that I cast a spell on you, that you might be cursed. They might think you to be in cohorts with me. They will quite possibly kill you.” From the corner of my eye, I see his face turn ashen. Good. There is a fine line between courage and foolishness, and fear is what keeps both balanced. “It is better that this all ends here, with me, and no one else is hurt.” After this declaration, neither of us speak again. As we near our destination, Micha returns the cotton fabric to my mouth, and I do not complain. Too soon and not soon enough, he leads me down a small branch-off of the main path, underneath a foreboding natural stone archway. It is there, in this small little ring of stone, that I see them: the five town Elders and the Captain of the Guard. They are stood solemnly before a large, gaping maw in the stone at their feet, which I presume to be the Chasm. I have only ever heard stories of it, heard the children teasing one another, saying that if they get caught in mischief, they will be given to the Chasm and the monsters that live beneath the mountain. I have heard it in the hushed, fearful reverence of the adults, in the stories and gossip spread by the young adults.

Alain Schores is a man of quiet strength. He is known to be just and fair. It was only right that he serve as Captain of the Guard. I do not hold this against him; I will him to continue to be seen as a hero for the rest of his days on this earth. He steps forward, face grim and brown eyes shadowed. “Hope Collinswood,” he begins, voice deep and sure, “for being found guilty of witchcraft, you shall be given to the Chasm.” I nod, calm as ever.

Margaret, one of the Elders, speaks out next. “You now have a choice, child,” she says, and I resist the urge to smile at her label. I am far from a child. I have seen many years more than she, despite the aged weariness on her face and the smooth, young skin of mine might suggest. “You can give yourself freely, or we shall cast you in.” I nod again and begin walking forward, towards the Chasm. I reach the edge and stare down into the dark, seemingly endless abyss in front of me. Before I can do anything else, another voice breaks the thick, heavy silence that is settled over this small clearing of death.

“Wait.” Micha’s voice is hard, but respectful. “At least let her speak her final words.”

Another Elder, Arthur, scoffs. “And allow the witch to curse us? I think not, boy,” he sneers. “Leash your lad, Captain.” I turn to look over my shoulder, just in time to see the righteous defiance returning to Micha’s face. My heart aches, and I pray for his safety.

Micha scowls at Arthur, refusing to back down. “Hope has been nothing but kind to us as long as we have known her. She heals us and helps whenever possible. Constance, Hope rescued your beloved Susie not two weeks ago after she fell from a tree. Alejandro, Hope gave you a remedy for your son’s insomnia. And Arthur, she cured your cough that has been plaguing you for years. Even if you refuse to see reason, even if you choose to believe the words of a boy about nonsense such as magic, the least you can do is let her speak her final words.”

There is a long, drawn-out silence that spreads across the clearing. Just when I think we will freeze this way for the rest of eternity, Captain Alain begins striding towards me, face still just as grim. I wait calmly for him to reach me, expecting to be pushed backwards into the Chasm, to end this. What he does next surprises me.

He reaches around the back of my head, somehow managing to untie the fabric, and lifts it away from my face. “Speak, girl.” he says gruffly, “and then make your choice.” He steps aside, letting me see the Elders and Micha. I give them a calm, gentle smile.

“I wish you all long, happy lives,” I say sincerely, without magic, without tears. And then I step backwards, closing my eyes as the weightlessness suddenly takes hold. For but a moment, I feel as though I am floating, and then I begin to fall. I do not scream or call out. I do not pray. I simply accept my fate.

And when I reach the bottom, I remember nothing else.

* * *

I am standing just outside Ebott’s Hollow, watching the sun set once again. My hands are no longer bound, and my simple cloth sack is sat comfortably across my back. With a small smile, I set into the town. “Greetings, traveller! Welcome to Ebott’s Hollow!” I turn at the friendly voice, smiling when I see Lillian Miller, the baker’s wife, sat at a cart full of baked goods.

I cross over to talk to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” I say, smile wider when I see the babe clutched to her chest. “He is beautiful.” I decline her offer to stay the night and regain my strength, merely buying a few buns and stuffing them in my pack before continuing through the town. Others greet me, welcome me, just as before, but I just smile and continue walking. Soon, I am once again in the woods. The small clearing that housed my cottage in a different timeline is empty, and I continue on, moving around the mountain.

Night has fallen by the time I reach the other side, the moon high in the sky. Without hesitation, I press on, tucking Ebott’s Hollow into the back of my mind, knowing I will never see it or its inhabitants again. When I leave a place, I never return. It is a caster’s curse to be long-lived, to be plagued with memories. 

But it is _my_ curse to never die.

Timelines come and go, people live and die, towns are built and destroyed. I have lived so long, encountered so many, forgotten so many more. The world around me is ever-changing. My presence, death, and resets are the only constant I have ever known. And hope. Hope that one day, I will find a place to settle down and live without interruption, without others’ fear and mistrust at what I am. The hope that one day, I will find someone who will stay by my side, no matter what. Someone who can see through the resets, who can still remember me.

Spellcasters are a hated race because we cannot be controlled. We live in constant change because we have no other choice. We cannot enjoy things such as happy endings because we are not allowed such things. But we are never resentful. We never fill with hate or anger. It is not possible. It is not in our nature. While humans share their emotions freely, spellcasters use magic and spells to lock theirs up, to dampen the effects. It makes our long lives more bearable, moving from place to place. It makes things easier when those we care about wither and die, as all things must do eventually. In a way, we are almost like the monsters of legend. Perhaps, in a different time, we would be driven into a mountain to be sealed away for all eternity. Now, there are so few us scattered across this earth that there is no point. When we are found, we are killed. I remember a time when it was not so, when spellcasters could walk freely among humans without consequence. Ah… a much happier time. How I wish those days could return.

But I know better than most that they cannot. Even if a time comes when spellcasters are once accepted without fear and hatred, the days of my foolish youth will never return.

And so I press on, ignoring the longing in my heart, the heaviness of my limbs, the eternal blanket of tiredness that covers me. I walk. From city to city, from town to town, from village to village. Faces come and go, names heard and forgotten. Death after death, reset after reset. Time passes and I walk.


	2. A Cause for Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes.
> 
> The world changes.
> 
> But not all change is bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All known and recognized characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their rightful creator Toby Fox
> 
> I own the plot and any original characters unless otherwise specified.

Time has a funny way of catching up. Whether you want to remain ignorant to it or not, eventually, time reminds you that it is there, and that it is changing everything around you. I watch it work, as the world changes around me. Fires turn to electricity, dirt paths to stone roads, horses to cars. All around me, the world grows and adapts. I, too, grow and adapt to this new world filled with wonders that were once inconceivable. Buildings that stretch high into the sky, pieces of technology that allow for contact to be made with someone else all the way across the world at your fingertips. Continents, countries; governments and laws. I reflect on this as I sit outside in a park, surrounded by people going about their daily lives.

But not all change is bad.

With this new world, filled with distractions, people grow less attentive. They worry for themselves and less about others and the world around them. It is easier now, to live in one place. Magic is dismissed as nothing but myth, a fabrication of clever illusions and camera effects to create a good show. It is easy for others to dismiss a small bit of magic as a trick of the light or a figment of their own imagination. I have lived in this large city for many years now. I have been able to go to school and get a degree. Though life in this time is rarely peaceful anymore, it is by far the best life I have had.

Even now, the sun is shining down from a blue, cloud-speckled sky. The grass is soft and green underfoot, a gentle breeze pushing past me. I smile and breathe it in, leaning back on the wooden bench I am sat on whilst waiting for my housemate. She has a horrible tendency towards tardiness, very scatter-brained and more inclined to losing track of time. The girl would probably lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her neck, now that I think about it, and the thought makes me chuckle fondly. Her nature often makes it hard for her to hold down a job, and she constantly bounces from retail to service and back again. I’ve offered her a job at my establishment many times, but she insists on getting jobs on her own. I sigh, content, and watch the clouds rolling across the sky. She called me this morning, in the middle of the typical before-work coffee rush, stuttering and excited and wanting to meet me as soon as possible. With a line to the door, I could only tell her later and hang up, but I did text her after the rush and let her know to meet for lunch at three.

A glance at the watch on my wrist tells me that it is three-fifty now, and I shake my head. Being my own boss does come with certain perks, at least. A familiar shout catches my attention, and when I turn to look to my left, I see my friend running down the sidewalk. Her cotton-candy curls are bouncing crazily with every step, and I notice that she’s still wearing her latest job’s uniform consisting of a pair of jeans and the company T-shirt, hat clutched in her hand. I wait, smirking, until she skids to a stop in front of me. She bends over, breathing hard, and I chuckle.

“You were talking and didn’t notice the time again,” I say, amused, because this happens often. My friend and housemate, Tansy, takes a moment to look up and stick her tongue out at me.

“I… hate you… sometimes,” Tansy pants in response, shoving my purse aside before sitting on the bench next to me, jamming her hat back on her head.

I smirk. “There are other housemates,” I tell her. “I’m sure Collin would be _thrilled_ if you actually said yes to his offer.” Tansy lets out a strangled noise of shocked protest and lunges, smacking me lightly on the shoulder. I laugh and easily grab her wrists, preventing any more of that nonsense. Collin is the newest person to move into our apartment building, renting the space right across from ours. Immediately after meeting her, he became smitten with Tansy, constantly flirting with her, buying her flowers and gifts, offering for her to live with him. Although certainly persistent, Collin is harmless, so neither of us have done anything to stop his advances. I believe Tansy secretly likes the attention, though she hides it well.

Tansy huffs and yanks her hands back. “Anyway, you jerk, I have something important to tell you!” She exclaims. “I got a job offer at a school!” A smile breaks out across my face and I squeal in excitement, leaning over to hug her tightly. Tansy is laughing as she hugs me back. She majored in Education and minored in Art and Art History in college, but was unable to find any openings in our city after graduating. This is the opportunity she’s been waiting for, and I’m not about to ruin it. How can I? I’m happy for her.

“That’s fantastic, Tans!” I tell her, pulling back. Her hazel eyes are bright, smile big, cheeks flushed pink in happiness. “Which school? I haven’t heard of any openings in the local ones.”

At my questions, her excitement fades a little, making me frown. “Well, y’see, it’s not exactly local, Lillia,” she tells me. “There’s a small town a little ways away that’s just getting started, pretty much. Their only school opens up next month, and they want me to be their art teacher.”

I give her the Look. “You’re not telling me something,” I sing. “So spill. Just how far away is this school?” Tansy fidgets under my gaze, not quite meeting my eyes.

Eventually, she sighs and mumbles, “It’s three states over.” Well, that certainly complicates things slightly. There’s no way I can still manage and run my business from that far away. And with only a month to get things sorted… after all, there is the matter of housing. We’d have to break our lease with the landlord, pack up all our things, and move it three states over. Then we’d have to find a place to live over there. When I come back from my internal musings, I notice that Tansy is still fidgeting uncomfortably. I narrow my eyes and clear my throat, causing her to jump. After a moment, she says, voice very small, “It’s a school for monsters.”

Oh. _Oh._

Five months ago, the news had reported the existence of monsters. Apparently, they had come crawling up from underneath a mountain, led by a small child that spoke out for them. The media had followed their story closely, constantly reporting their progress and status on citizenship. Seven weeks ago, they reported that monsters are now considered full citizens of all states. It isn’t that I have anything against monsters. They’ve spread across the country, though I haven’t seen too many of them here in this city. I have a regular who comes in every morning, always very friendly. It’s just that monsters have magic, and where magic is involved, fear rules with an iron fist. As a creature with magic who has been persecuted for it for hundreds of years, I have become wary of magic freely used.

I smile at Tansy. She knows exactly what I am and what I can do. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to leave me alone, I knew I had to tell her. Secrets don’t make friends, and despite what my instincts were telling me, I desperately wanted this wonderful, crazy, expressive girl to be my friend. To my utter surprise and delight, Tansy had accepted it. She wasn’t scared of me. We’ve been joined at the hip ever since. “Well, I have news for you,” I chirp, tapping her nose with my finger. “You’re taking that job, but you’re also talking to the landlord because he hates me.”

The effect of my words is instantaneous. Tansy lights up again, smile returning full-force, and she launches herself at me. Her arms tighten around my neck. “Thank you! Thank you, Lillia!” I laugh and hug her back, breathing in her citrus-vanilla scent. After several drawn moments of this, I pull back and stand up, slinging my purse onto my back and helping my friend stand.

“We should get back home,” I tell her, looking at my watch. “We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. When we get home, the first thing you are going to do is accept the job and then you’re going to talk to the landlord about getting out of the lease. I also need the name of the town so I can start looking for housing.” As I talk, I set off down the sidewalk, headed for the bus stop. Even though I can drive and own a car, we usually take the bus or walk. City traffic is crazy at all times of the day and night, and it’s simpler this way. It also saves us money on gas, and since I never drive, I never get into any accidents, which means insurance is pretty decent. Tansy is at my side, phone out in front of her. Her fingers are tapping away at the screen as she takes notes on what I’m telling her, and I have to hide a smile as I take her elbow and begin to guide her along. Just in time, too—another step and she’d have walked straight into a signpost. “You need to figure out an exact date of when you are needed at the school. It may turn out that you have to move over there before I can, at least for a few weeks. We need to find a moving company and begin collecting boxes and packing. We’ll also have to buy new furniture, keep that in mind.”

The bus pulls up just as we reach the stop, and I drop in our fees before leading Tansy to a set of open seats. Just as we sit down, Tansy looks up at me and asks, “What about Twisted?”

Twisted is the name of my coffee shop and bar here in the city. I majored in Economics and minored in Business Management/Administration in college and used my degree to open the small joint up. Sure, in a big city like this, coffee shops and bars are abundant, but combining them both proves to be the best idea. It’s something fresh and different, and the idea and novelty of it garners quite a bit of attention. It’s also smart because we get a fair bit of business during the morning hours, as people are on their way to work or school, but at four, we begin selling alcohol to appropriate ages. That way, when the allure of coffee begins to wear off and the craving for booze begins, we can still make quite a bit of money.

I shake my head. “I’ll worry about Twisted,” I tell her. “You worry about that other stuff.”

All of a sudden, Tansy doesn’t look so sure about this whole thing. “Lillia, I’m not going to ask you to leave your store behind,” she says firmly. “You poured your heart and soul into that place and business is booming like crazy.”

I roll my eyes, take off her hat, and ruffle her hair. “Relax, would you?” I laugh, dropping the hat in her lap when I’m done and leaning back in my seat. “Sure, I love Twisted, but this is a great opportunity for me, too! I’ve been thinking about expanding, maybe opening up a chain. I have a few potential employees that I could train to replace me at this store. While you figure out our lease and moving situation, _I’m_ going to find us a place to live over there and start the application process for opening up another store. It’s a win-win situation, Tans.”  
As I talk, the worry and uncertainty in my friend’s face slowly dissipates. “Do you really think you’ll be able to get one there, though?”

I nod enthusiastically. “You said it’s a small town, right?” Tansy nods. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem. It’s unlikely that there’ll be a coffee shop, and even if there’s a bar or a restaurant that serves alcohol, I’ll still be able to draw enough funds from the morning rushes and this store here to keep me afloat. Besides, a smaller town means less employees and a smaller building.” I know I sound confident, but that’s because I _am_ confident. If I can open up a business in a large city and do as well as I am, then I should have no problem there. This is what I went to school for, and I’m sure as hell not going to waste that degree.

Fifteen minutes later, the bus pulls to a stop and we tumble off, walking the last few blocks to our apartment building. We laugh and joke as we go, falling into a comfortable rhythm that has been in place for five years now. We climb into the elevator and begin the ascent to our floor. For once, Collin isn’t waiting to ambush Tansy in the hall, and we’re quick to take the opportunity and run into our apartment. Tansy tosses her hat onto the couch and runs for her laptop. I grin, setting my purse by the door and kicking off my shoes. Knowing that we’re both going to be very busy and that we need to start saving money like crazy, I decide on takeout for dinner tonight.

“Hey Tans, you want Thai or sushi?” I call, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and typing in the passcode. I pull up my contacts and click over to my ‘takeout’ group.

From the depths of the apartment, Tansy shouts back, “Pizza!” I snort, because that was _not_ one of the options, but considering how big today ended up being for her, I won’t argue.

“You got it, boss!” I find our favorite pizza place and hit call, sandwiching the phone between my ear and shoulder as I move through the apartment, down the hall and to my room. Six rings in, someone picks up and greets me. “Hi, I’d like to place an order for one large pizza for delivery. Half cheese, half sausage, please.” I wait for a minute, somehow managing to pull off my black dress shirt. “The address is 201 Fifth, eighth floor, apartment 26.” I toss the shirt into my hamper and begin wriggling out of my distressed grey skinny jeans. I get confirmation on my order and tell them I’ll be paying by cash. “Thank you so much.” I end the call and toss the phone onto my bed, moving over to my wardrobe to find something else to wear. I emerge a minute later with a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. Pulling my long, thick braid of chocolate brown hair out from underneath the collar of the shirt, I collect my phone and laptop and head back to the living room, where I curl up on the couch.

Logging into my laptop, I pull up a new document and set about typing up a list of what needs to happen. I create two separate sections, leaving one for me, and assigning the other one to Tansy, and share it with her. “Tansy, I just shared a document with you,” I call down the hallway. “As you make progress, put it down so we know we’re on the right track!”

“You got it, Lil! Oh, and the town is called… uh… Ebottville!” I pull a face at the name, wondering who names towns like that anymore. Still, I pull up my favorite search engine in a new tab and type in the town and state. I am immediately bombarded by way too many results for such a small town. Scrolling through, I’m quickly able to figure out why: Ebottville is at the foot of the mountain where the monsters came from. Rolling my eyes in slight annoyance, I move my cursor back up to the bar in order to refine my search. After a couple more attempts, I’m able to find the official town website with links to various other agencies and businesses. Scrolling through, I’m pleased to find that there is no coffee shop currently listed. Pushing that aside for now, I click on the ‘housing’ link and am taken to a realtor agency for the whole district. I find a promising one, unlock my phone, and dial the listed number. It rings for a little while, but I wait patiently.

“ _Charm District Realty_ ,” a pleasant male voice on the other end greets. “ _This is David Leeson speaking._ ”

Putting on my best customer service voice, I say, “Hello, Mr. Leeson. My name is Lillia Hanlon. My housemate and I are looking to move to the town of Ebottville within the next month or so and we will need a place to live.”

I hear typing on the other end, and then, “ _Ah, very well. Not many people want to move in, so we do have a few housing options. Are you looking to rent or own?_ ” 

I hesitate briefly. I should really talk this through with Tansy, but… a job like this is more than likely going to last. This is something Tansy has dreamed of since she was little, and now that it’s finally within her grasp, I know she’ll do her best to keep it. Renting _is_ cheaper, but putting down more permanent roots might be more beneficial for long term. “Own,” I say confidently. “Preferably two bedroom, two bath if possible. Full kitchen. Smaller size is fine.” There’s more typing and clicking, and I sandwich the phone between my ear and shoulder once more and begin typing as well. I enter Mr. Leeson’s agency, name, and number under the appropriate section of my part of the list. Footsteps behind me catch my attention, and I look over my shoulder to see Tansy. She’s changed out of her uniform, simply trading the company shirt for one of her anime ones, pink and blue hair pulled into a ponytail. She mouths _landlord_ at me and hikes her thumb towards the door. I nod and shoo her off. She rushes out of the apartment.

“ _Excellent. Well, Miss Hanlon, we have two different available locations that match your specifications._ ” Mr. Leeson is back again. “ _Do you have an email address that I can send the information to?_ ” I give him my email, and not three minutes later, I receive an alert. Clicking over to my email, I open up the new one and use the links. Browsing through the pictures, specs, and information, I see that both places are well-maintained. Up-to-date appliances, but only one of them has two bathrooms.

“These are certainly viable, Mr. Leeson,” I respond. “But I’ll need to talk to my housemate before we make a decision. If you can give me a little time, I should be able to call you back with an offer for one of them later this week.”

“ _Absolutely, Miss Hanlon. I have started a client file for you and have flagged both locations as ones of interest. I should inform you that both are fairly low-priced, but not because of issues with the houses themselves. It is more an issue of location._ ” I nod, then blush a little when I realize that he can’t see me. It makes sense, however. Despite their citizenship, humans are scared and wary of monsters. It makes sense that, in a town mostly populated by monsters, not many humans would want to move in.

I clear my throat a little, ignoring the dryness from having to talk all day. “Well, we certainly won’t be backing out,” I inform him confidently. “My housemate has gotten a job offer at the new school there. However, speaking of jobs, I’m wondering if there are any buildings available that are compatible for small businesses.”

Silence and more typing, followed by, “ _What size and specifications would you have for such a location?_ ”

“I currently own and manage my own coffee shop and bar where I live now,” I begin, typing the new information on both the house and my job. “I would like to open another branch in Ebottville.” I give him the specs and size of my current location, but also tell him a little smaller is perfectly fine.

“ _Well, it seems I do have something that might work. Located on the main square is a little place sandwiched between the local supermarket and the town hall._ ” Mr. Leeson lists off the specs and I am quick to copy it down. Excitement sparks in my chest when I hear that it used to be a cafe, which means that there is already a kitchen area. I’d need new equipment to run the coffee part of the shop, and I’d need to remodel a bit in order to get the bar part, but that won’t be too difficult. I wince a little bit at the price, but am told it’s because the building has been maintained very well. I open a new tab and pull up my work documents, looking at the budget. I wasn’t lying to Tansy when I said I’d been thinking of branching out, and with business picking up in the evenings as well, I’ve been squirreling away funds for this exact reason. It’ll be a tight squeeze, that’s for sure. But I know some people who can get me good deals on coffee equipment. Besides the price of the building itself, the rent isn’t too bad. The remodel will take a fair chunk of money, but thankfully, not because of repairs. I’ll need the proper documentation.

“I’d like to put in an offer,” I say.

There’s a short pause, as if he’s surprised. “ _O-of course, Miss Hanlon. What is your offer?_ ” I tell him, coming in short by a few thousand. It’s owned by the town, not an individual seller. It’s been sitting empty for about two years now. By this point in time, the town officials are probably tired of sitting on the property and feeding their money into maintaining it. I have faith they’ll take my offer. “ _Well then, I will put this in for you and keep you updated. You should have a definitive answer within a couple of weeks._ ”

I smile. “Perfect!” I chirp. “And I’ll call you later this week with an offer on one of the houses.” We say our goodbyes and I make sure I have everything saved in the document before closing my laptop. Just as I lean forward to set it on the coffee table, there’s a knock on the door. I glance at my watch and wince, wondering where the time went, and unfold myself from the couch. Stiff, I hobble over to the door, snagging my wallet from my purse as I pull it open. I collect and pay for the pizza, tipping the guy pretty well, and then carry the warm box over to the breakfast bar. My stomach growls, and I don’t bother to wait for Tansy to get back. I collect a plate from the cabinet and get a few slices of cheese pizza, settling down at the breakfast bar and digging in.

Three pieces later, the door opens. “Sorry, Collin, but I’m _really_ busy today!” The door is swiftly slammed shut, and I hear a muffled shout from the hall and snicker. Tansy huffs an exasperated sigh, making me laugh harder around my mouthful of pizza. “Oh, shut up, Lil.” Still grinning, I push the pizza box toward her. Tansy walks over, lifting the lid and removing a slice of sausage. Slumping onto the other stool beside me, she takes a voracious bite out of the slice.

After several moments of this, I’ve had enough. “Well?” I prompt. “What did Landlord McPrick say about the lease?”

Tansy snorts at my not-so-affectionate name for our landlord, swallowing her bite. “Not while I’m eating, Lillia.” I shrug, smiling, and move to get another slice of cheese. “He said we can end it if we pay this month’s rent and a two-fifty fee, but then we’ll only have a week to pack up and clear out. I’ll put it in the document before going to bed.”

I nod, chewing slowly as I think. “Just means we’ll have to hold off on terminating it,” I reply after I swallow. “And you need to wait on putting in your two weeks. I found a realtor, who got me a couple of different housing options. I told him we would talk and then make an offer later this week. I did make an offer on a place for the new Twisted shop. But, hey, focus.” Tansy snaps her eyes to mine. “I really need you to take care of the moving situation, okay? I’m going to be swamped trying to train a management replacement and getting the licenses transferred over. I’m going to be working longer hours only to come home and work some more. Can I count on you to get this sorted?”

Tansy straightens up, lifting her pizza-laden hand into a poor salute. “You got it, boss!” She shouts despite our close proximity. I crack a smile, beginning to laugh at her ridiculousness.

“Nerd,” I say affectionately, pushing her shoulder lightly. She snickers in response, lowering the pizza to her mouth and biting off at least half in one go.

Later that night, after we’re done eating and clean up, we binge on terrible horror movies until nearly midnight, at which point I’m forced to acknowledge that I need to be up at four in the morning so I can get to work by five. Tansy is passed out on the couch, slumped over the arm and clutching a pillow, curls fanning across her face. Smiling fondly, I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over her. I turn off the TV and stumble blindly through the dark to my own room, plugging my phone in before falling on my unmade bed. I pull the comforter around me, rolling onto my stomach.

I’m out within moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. It's me. So... yeah. Said I wasn't going to post this story last night. Ended up posting it. Said I wasn't going to post this chapter today. Ended up posting it. Yep.
> 
> In other news, my chapters will slowly be getting longer because I'm a sucker for long chapters. Oh, and there will be one more chapter after this before Sans and the other monsters actually show up. Plot stuff. Yeah. 
> 
> Fun fact: I am very awkward.


	3. A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Lillia and Tansy to begin their journey to the next chapter of this lifetime.
> 
> Before they do, a typical day in the life for them is shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All known and recognizable characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their rightful creator Toby Fox.
> 
> I own the plot and any original characters unless otherwise specified.

I trudge into the apartment at ten at night, exhausted, only to stumble on a box left too close to the doorway. “Shit!” I manage to regain my balance, but only after dropping my purse and nearly dropping my binder. The commotion is loud enough for Tansy to hear, because she pops her head up over the breakfast bar. We have two and a half weeks before Tansy is needed at the school in Ebottville, and apparently, she’s decided to finish packing the kitchen tonight.

“Sorry, Lil!” She chirps. “Meant to move that earlier. You good?” I nod and sigh tiredly, stepping around the box and nudging my purse aside with my foot. “Yikes. There’s some ramen on the stove if you’re hungry.”

My stomach growls, but today is day fifteen in a row of working twelve hours or more. Between legal matters and training both a general manager and an assistant general manager for Twisted, keeping up with Mr. Leeson on both properties, and struggling to get everything packed up and ready to leave, I’ve been averaging maybe four hours of sleep per night. Tansy’s last day of work was three days ago, and she’s spent most of her time since packing up the rest of the apartment.

I put my binder down on the box I’d tripped over and then promptly bend backwards over the back of the couch, sliding down until my upper half is resting on the cushions and my feet are dangling in the air. “I’m sleeping for a solid week after this,” I groan. Tansy chuckles, and then I hear the apartment door shut, lock clicking into place. “Fuck. I meant to do that.”

“Just go to bed, Lillia.” Hands grab my ankles and pull, forcing me back to my feet.

“No, I need to—” My protest is cut short when my friend simply tugs me down the hall, shoving me into my barebones bedroom. I am pushed onto my bed, shoes removed, and promptly tucked in.

“Sleep,” Tansy orders. “You’re taking tomorrow off whether you want to or not. The movers should be here tomorrow and you need to not die before we can even get out of this place.” I snort. “Hey, don’t give me that sass! Besides, you said it yourself last week that Hayley and Skyler are ready to run the place. You’re just being clingy. This will be their real test, without you being at the store. Take a break, relax for a bit. But right now, _sleep_ , damn it!”

My body is already relaxing into the mattress. “Will you text Hayley and let her know?” I mumble. “Phone is…” My face scrunches up as I try to think of where I left the pesky little device.

“I got it,” Tansy replies. “Good night, Lillia.” My mind slips into blissful, wonderful darkness.

* * *

When I wake up, it’s because both my bladder and my stomach are screaming at me. Still half-asleep, I wander into the bathroom to take care of my business, grimacing at myself in the mirror. My hair, which had been in a bun at one point, looks like a family of about twelve rats have taken up residence in it. My makeup is smeared and smudged across my cheeks. The shadows under my eyes are _very_ noticeable, and I’m still in the clothes I wore to work. Fantastic. I start by taking off my makeup and letting my hair down, brushing through the knots. After that, I turn on the shower and strip out of my clothes, climbing in as soon as the temperature becomes bearable.

_Stars, this feels amazing._

I let the hot water pound my muscles for a few minutes before starting to clean myself off. I hear the bathroom door open and then close again, and when I finally climb out of the shower, I smile. My work clothes are gone, replaced by a bundle of fabric sitting on the vanity. Tansy is an absolute queen and I love her to pieces. Tucking my hair up into a towel for now, I change into the pair of skinny jeans and black T-shirt printed with a full moon and brush my teeth, feeling a little less like a walking pile of trash and more like a person. I wander out into the living room, where I am greeted by still-warm French toast and the sight of Tansy piling all the boxes up in the living room, ready for the movers to come collect. I immediately dive for the food, pouring copious amounts of syrup over the toast. I almost forego utensils as hungry as I am, considering we’ve been using paper plates and plasticware for the last week or so, but decide the sticky mess I’d have to deal with later isn’t worth it.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” Tansy huffs. I grunt in response and twist the stool around, setting my plate on my lap and digging in. Tansy’s curls are piled haphazardly on top of her head, a white bandana keeping her fringe out of her face. She’s got on a pair of baggy, faded blue jeans, the hems rolled several times at her ankles. Tucked into the jeans is a white T-shirt with the image of a cat wearing large glasses and a bowtie, an oversized purple flannel shirt layered over top of that. She’s got the sleeves of the flannel bunched up to her elbows, and I see that she’s opted out of her contacts today, the thick black frames taking up half her face. “Movers called. They’ll be here in an hour.”

“Not likely,” I grumble around my bite of French toast. Tansy snickers, hefting another box over to the stack. I watch her work, eating, until I feel slightly more awake. I don’t really drink coffee or large amounts of caffeine. The irony of that statement isn’t lost on me, either—I own and run a coffee shop (soon to be two coffee shops) and yet I don’t drink the stuff. Old habits die hard, and I just prefer tea. “Thanks for the clothes.”

Tansy shoots me a smile. “No prob, Bob,” is her response, making me roll my eyes. “Seriously, though, I honestly thought we wouldn’t have this much junk. We should probably try to get rid of some.”

Running my eyes over the stack and the few boxes scattered about, I think about that. A lot of the boxes are filled with clothes and knick-knacks, but I do see a fair amount of houseware labels as well. “I think we’ll be fine,” I say. “We’re moving into an actual house, remember? More space. Besides, you know you can’t get rid of any of your art supplies or hipster clothing.”

Tansy sticks her tongue out at me. “Shove off, would ya, Lil?” She huffs, but the smile on her face tells me she’s not really upset. I chuckle and stand to throw away my empty paper plate and plastic fork. I help her move the last few boxes over to the others and then disappear into the bathroom to take care of my hair situation. Releasing it from the head burrito, it falls down to the middle of my back in a wet, dark curtain. Huffing a sigh, I pick up my comb and set to work. Long hair is definitely a hassle, but my appearance is the one thing I can control. I’ve always had long hair, always enjoyed the comforting weight and the way I can hide behind it, so I don’t cut it. Once, back in freshman year of college, Tansy dared me to color it. I did, dying the tips a nice lapis blue. Those have long since been cut off, leaving me with my natural chocolate color. Once I have everything brushed out, I begin plaiting the tresses into a loose Dutch braid. I think about makeup briefly, then decide against it. I wear makeup on a daily basis for work, and my face could really use a break.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I think about the move. My offer for the old cafe building had been accepted rather quickly. Tansy and I sat down and went through the two house options I’d been given, listing pros and cons to both and comparing the prices. Eventually, we decided on the house on the edge of town. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a full kitchen. It’s at the very end of the road, the backyard spreading into the forest that sits at the foot of the mountain. We put our offer in for that place on the same day I received ownership of my new Twisted store, only to be given good news once more the very next week. After that, I threw myself into legalities. All the titles, deeds, and licenses for Twisted were in my name. As the owner and manager of the store, it made sense. However, if I won’t be here to run it, some of them need to be transferred to the new manager. I’m still the owner, of course—the company name belongs to me. The deeds and titles are still under my name, but my new manager and their assistant manager needed some stuff done. Food safety courses, management courses and training, health and safety training.

Hayley, as my oldest employee, was the obvious choice to be the store’s general manager. She’s been with me since day one, when I hired her after being forced to admit that I could no longer run everything by myself. She’s witty and sarcastic, her dry sense of humor bringing many laughs to the staff. She knows everything about the place and I trust her to take care of my baby. Skyler, by comparison, is a fairly new employee, having been hired about three months ago. Still, she’s constantly coming up with new ideas for the pastries and such that we sell. She’s a crowd favorite, and when we’re busy with a line wrapping around the store, she makes people laugh and starts games to keep them occupied while they wait. She’s the perfect counterbalance to Hayley, which is why I decided that she would be the assistant general manager. Even though they don’t always get along, they’re never disruptive with their arguments and have a tendency to solve the issues themselves without any interference from me, which is a bonus.

I paid to put them both through ServSafe courses. I paid for them to take health and safety courses. I trained them on all the workings of management, on how to deal with the safe, the bank, new item pricing, the works. After all that, there was the matter of transferring the liquor and food licenses out of my name and to the company’s name instead, allowing for free movement between management further down the line.

Through all of that madness, Tansy hadn’t been sitting still, either. True to her word, she hunted down boxes of all sizes and began packing. She found a moving company and scheduled the pick-up. And she’s pretty much packed up the entire apartment save for my room. All of this was done between her own shifts at the burrito joint she’d been working at, and even after she put in her two weeks. Tansy has been a champ through this whole thing, keeping her focus on the right things and powering through to get everything done. I’m extremely proud of her, and I know she’ll do wonderfully as the new art teacher in Ebottville.

At this point in time, we have today and tomorrow here in this city. After tomorrow, we’ll be hopping into my car and setting off for Ebottville. Since we were able to take care of everything so quickly, with two weeks to spare before the beginning of the school year, Tansy and I decided to head over there early. This way, we’ll have a chance to kind of get settled into the new house and Tansy can start working on her lesson plans and get settled in her new classroom. We do need to find furniture though, as everything we have now came with the apartment and has to stay with the apartment. We might be sleeping on the floor for a couple of days, but luckily, I have some time to work on the house before I really dive into my new store.

 _Oh, who am I kidding?_ I think as I walk back out of the bathroom, fingers mindlessly playing with the end of my braid. _I’m too much of an overachiever to just work on one project at a time._ I smirk to myself and walk back out to the living room, where I scoop up the giant, overfilled binder from the couch and sit back down at the breakfast bar. This binder is filled with contacts that I used when starting my first Twisted shop. Contractors, renovation companies, equipment sellers, the works. My first store was nothing but an empty shell, so I had to start from scratch. I had to put in a kitchen, all the appliances and equipment. I had to put in flooring and lighting. I had to paint the walls, put in seating, put in the bar and taps. I’m not like Tansy—when I see a blank canvas, ideas on how to fill it don’t come naturally to me. Besides, how does one decorate a coffee shop with a bar in it? Going for a classic homegrown coffee shop look felt wrong, but so did typical bar decor. I wasn’t too worried about it back then, considering it took _several_ months just to get the basic necessities in. I also procrastinated too long, and before I knew it, I had an opening date and no design concept.

Tansy had stepped in at that point with a few ideas, and although I didn’t use any of them, they still served a purpose and sparked an idea of my own. I wanted Twisted to really stand out in both concept and decoration, which is why I chose _home_ as my design. Instead of high-top tables and booths, I have couches and armchairs and poufs and ottomans. Coffee tables, allowing for food and drinks to be put down safely and yet still giving off that air of comfortable informality that comes with sitting in your friend’s living room, laughing and talking. The walls are painted a warm beige with an earthly ochre wood panelling along the bottom. The floor is wood, but spread with multiple colorful rugs of all shapes and sizes. The bar doubles up as a pastry display, something that took quite a bit of work to be able to use. The kitchen is completely blocked off, allowing for more of a homely atmosphere. I set up a TV on one wall, complete with a few thrifted gaming consoles and a collection of games that customers donated. Music is a mix from across the years, that way everyone hears something they know and like. It’s _different_ and that means people take notice, tell their friends.

I’ve got a bit of a head start with this new store, though. There’s already a kitchen area. There aren’t any pictures that Mr. Leeson could find for me, so I’ll have to wait until I actually get to Ebottville to take a look at the space I’ll be working with, but it never hurts to have contacts ready to go.

Behind me, Tansy huffs. “Drop the binder and no one gets hurt.” I roll my eyes and flip through a few more pages. “Oi! I told you no work today, Lillia!”

I tip my head back until I can stare at my friend, who has her hands on her hips and the sternest face she can muster. “I don’t remember that being part of the deal,” I reply. “All I remember is being told to sleep and that I wasn’t going _in_ to work today. You never said I couldn’t work from home, so eat pant.” Tansy splutters indignantly at my response, so I stick my tongue out at her and sit up straight again.

“Lillia, you will drop that binder or so help me, I will—”

I twirl around on the stool, folding my arms across my chest and giving her a haughty smirk. “You’ll _what,_ Tansy? We both know you won’t do shit.” Tansy glares at me. It’s silent for a tense moment as we stare each other down, and then suddenly, my friend lets out a battle cry and lunges. I brace myself for her attack, only to falter when she dodges around me and runs away. Seconds too late, I realize what she’s done and squawk in surprised anger, tumbling off the stool and scrambling after her. “Give it back, you thief!”

Tansy yelps, clutching my binder to her chest. “Never!” She cries, darting into the hall.

“Fatal mistake!” I call, running after her. How on earth have we never gotten a noise complaint? “You run to the one part of the place that has no exit!”

Tansy lets out a crazy giggle, clearly having fun. “Says _you,_ Lil! So how ‘bout _you_ eat pant!” I skid around the corner and into the hallway just in time to see her ducking out onto the fire escape. I sprint down the hallway, grinning, and peer out the open window. Tansy is scrambling down the metal stairs. Fine. Two can play this game. Knowing the stairs in this building are never used, I call on my magic. My hands begin to glow white, brown swirling through the brightness, and when I blink, I’m standing at the bottom of the stairwell on the ground floor. Casually, I push open the door leading out to the building’s car lot, walking over and leaning against my car.

Seven minutes later, Tansy skids around the corner of the building, running straight for my car, only to pull up short when she sees me leaning against it casually. I’ve got a smug, victorious grin. “Damn it!” She huffs. “I didn’t think you’d actually use your talent right now!”

I shrug, still extremely smug. “Eh, too lazy to walk down,” I tell her before holding out a hand. “Binder, please. I won fair and square.” Tansy pouts, but hands it over. “Now come on, crazy lady.” I toss my free arm over her shoulders and we walk back into the building, this time taking the elevator up.

_This is a good lifetime._

* * *

Thursday comes with the blaring of my alarm in my ear, telling me that it’s four in the morning and I need to get up and head in for my last day of work. Yesterday, the movers were almost four hours late, but that was fine. Tans and I helped them carry all the boxes down and they loaded them up into the truck. If my body were prone to reacting to such manual labor, I suppose I might feel sore today, but that isn’t in my nature. However, it _is_ in Tansy’s, so on my way to the bathroom for my shower, I stop in her room and leave a glass of water and a couple pain pills on her nightstand. She’s sprawled out on her stomach, hugging her pillow, and snoring softly. I smile and head back to the bathroom. I shower quickly and pull on my typical work uniform, consisting of a blue dress shirt and a pair of comfortable black skinny jeans. I put on my usual amount of makeup and pull my wet hair into a reverse braid up the back of my skull, twisting the rest into a messy bun on the top of my head. I walk back out to the living room, careful to keep quiet, and blindly pull on my slip-resistant kitten heels. I pull my purse onto my back, then double back to collect my cell from my room.

_Cell._

All of a sudden, I’m no longer in a familiar-if-empty apartment. The smell of dirt and must filters through my senses, and even though I can’t see anything, I can feel the heavy iron clasped about my wrists, hear the clanking of chains and gruff shouts. My breathing picks up. No. Not again. _Please_ , anything but this. Something soft brushes against my cheek, something warm. Light blinds me briefly, causing me to blink rapidly. When I stop, I’m back in the apartment, standing just outside of my bedroom. Tansy is standing in front of me, face filled with concern. One of her hands is pressed against my cheek, the other still lingering on the hallway light switch.

“Time to come back now, Lillia,” she murmurs, staring right into my eyes. I find myself lost in her eyes, lost in the blues and greens and browns. Those colors are safe. “Time to stay _here,_ with me.” Tansy is safe. “That’s it. That’s right. You got it.” I am safe. I’m not in a cell. I’m standing in an apartment with my best friend. I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding, and Tansy smiles at me, lifting her hand from my cheek. “Hey.”

I huff a breathy laugh. “Hey. Why are you up?”

She shrugs. “Had to pee. Didn’t hear you leave and went to investigate instead. You might want to hurry—you’ll be late if you don’t get on the bus in the next few minutes.” I glance at my watch and curse, rushing into my room to grab my phone. I shove it in my pocket, tug Tansy into a quick hug, and then bolt out the door. I hurry into the elevator, jamming my thumb into the appropriate button. I wait, a little impatiently, as the doors slide shut and the box begins to move down. When it stops and the doors open, I rush outside, barely waving at Henry, the doorman, and sprinting down the sidewalk to get to the bus stop on time. I manage it, but only just, collapsing into an empty seat and letting out a deep sigh of relief. I’m not winded or out of breath. Physical activity doesn’t affect my body like it does a human’s.

I get to work on time. The door is already unlocked, and I smile when I see Nina setting up the pastry display. Jake must be back in the kitchen, getting things ready for the morning coffee rush. I don’t see Hayley anywhere, so I assume she’s in the office, getting the drawer ready. I push through the door, causing Nina to look up and smile. “Mornin’, Lillia!”

I nod. “Certainly is.” I move to the kitchen, where Jake is getting the coffee machines turned on and primed. He nods at me, headphones in his ears, and I wave back. I move over to the employee area, hanging up my purse. Just as I finish, Hayley strides out of the office, looking very professional. She’s mimicked my style of a dark-colored dress shirt and black skinny jeans. Her blond hair is pulled into a professional-looking bun at the back of her head. Her makeup is flawless, and her posture screams _I’m in charge._ I smile. I _so_ made the right choice.

“All right, Jake—” Hayley motions to her ear, and Jake pops one earbud out “—you’re on baking until Hannah comes in. Nina, you’re on service, so keep on your toes.”

“Where am I, boss?” I ask, causing Hayley to whirl around in shock.

Then she smiles. “Well, Nina’s gonna be pretty busy,” she says, holding out the cash drawer in her hand towards me. “How about you man the register?” I chuckle and nod, taking the cash drawer and heading up front. I clock in and sign into the register before moving around to wipe down the coffee tables. When the clock hits six, I flip our sign to open and step back just as the first few stragglers filter in. I haven’t run cash in a good long while, but it’s no less fun than any of the other positions. I say hi to the regulars, chatting with them for a few minutes as they wait, but eventually, the main rush comes and takes away that opportunity.

I’m able to lose myself to the familiar, repetitive motions. Smile, greet, ring up, cash out, deliver, repeat. It lets me drown out the lingering smell of cold, musty air and fill it with coffee and perfumes and colognes instead.

It lets me forget.

And then, all too quickly, noon rolls around. Our dead hour, therefore the perfect opportunity for shift change. Leah, Nate, Holly, and Alex come in, and I am relieved from my station. I clean up any dirty tables, but before I can go to collect my stuff, I’m boxed in by the rest of the staff in one huge, crazy group hug. They’re all chattering at me, telling me how much they’ll miss me, and it makes me smile. I’ve never been that close with all of my employees—at least, _I_ never believed that I was—but they don’t seem to care about that. They just wish me the best of luck in opening up the new store.

I get home, still smiling, to find Tansy flopped on the couch, scrolling through one of her various social media sites. “Hey Tans,” I greet, gently kicking the door shut while putting my purse down. I notice our suitcases sitting by the armchair, as well as a duffel bag and our pillows. “You’ve been uh… busy.”

Tansy looks up at me, putting her phone on standby. “I know you said we’d leave first thing tomorrow, but… I really wanna leave now,” she blurts. “Hear me out! We can stop at a hotel if we have to, but we’ll get there sooner and I really just wanna start teaching already and meet all of the kids and their parents and—”

By this point in time, I’ve crossed over to stand in front of my friend and push my palm over her mouth, cutting off her rambling. “Just let me change first.” I can feel her grin against my palm before she rolls off the edge of the couch, scrambling back to her feet and cheering. I chuckle, opening my suitcase and pulling out a pair of black leggings, a white tank top, and a blue jacket. I change quickly, shoving my uniform back into my suitcase, and trade my heels for slip-ons. After that, we collect the last of our belongings, turn out the lights, and walk out into the hallway.

Of course, Collin is there to greet us. Well, to greet Tansy, at least. I snicker quietly behind my palm. “Oh, uh, hey, Tansy!” Collin says. “Fancy seeing you here!” As if he wasn’t waiting for this. “So you’re actually moving, huh? I thought you were just, y’know, pullin’ my leg.”

I can hear the barely-contained exasperation in my friend’s voice. “Yes, we’re moving, Collin. Movers came yesterday. Why on earth would you think I was just messing with you?”

Collin shuffles nervously, not quite able to meet Tansy’s eyes. “Well, uh…” he laughs a little. “I kinda thought that… well maybe… you were considering moving in with me.” It takes every ounce of willpower and determination in my body to not burst out laughing. I biting my lip, hand clasped over my mouth, trying to keep myself from looking too much in pain.

Tansy sighs. “Collin… look, you’re a nice guy and all, but I’m not attracted to you.”

The poor man all but deflates at her words, as if she hasn’t said them before. “That’s why you’re moving, isn’t it?” He asks, voice quiet. “Because I keep bothering you.”

Immediately, Tansy is shaking her head, pastel pink and blue curls bouncing with the movement. “That’s not it,” she replies. “I got a job offer a few states over. That’s why.”

I can’t take it anymore. I shoulder the duffel bag, collect Tansy’s suitcase with my other hand, and mumble out, “I’ll meet you in the car.” Snickering to myself, I walk down the hall and get into the elevator. I drop off my apartment key at the front desk and shamble out to the lot, glancing over my shoulder before calling on my magic. The trunk of my car glows white briefly before popping open. Smirking, I load our bags and climb into the driver’s seat, starting up the ignition. Several minutes later, the passenger door opens and Tansy drops into the seat with a huff. The door slams shut.

“Drive.”

“Not without a seatbelt.”

The seatbelt clicks into place. “Lillia, if you know what’s good for you, you will drive away right now.” I laugh, putting the car in reverse and backing out. There’s a white glow, and then the radio suddenly switches on by itself, tuning in to Tansy’s favorite station. We pull out of the parking lot and onto the busy street.

* * *

We don’t end up stopping at a hotel. Even though Tansy doesn’t have a car, she does have a driver’s license, so she offers to drive when I get too tired and I nap in the backseat. Eighteen hours in the car with minimal stops for photo opportunities, gas, and bathroom breaks. Tansy and I fill the time with laughter and stories. We spend hours singing at the top of our lungs, ignoring the way our voices crack and break and how off-key we are. We play games together, like keeping track of how many license plates we see from each state.

And when it gets dark out, we tell each other our dreams. What we want out of this new part of our lives. People we hope to meet. Things we hope to accomplish. At one point in time, when I’m back in the driver’s seat and we hit a particularly long stoplight, Tansy leans over the console. She squishes herself to my side, lifting her phone up in the air, and snaps a pic. I chuckle at her antics, but before I can turn and demand a look, the light turns green and I’m forced to drive again.

Hours after that, as we’re both a little stir crazy but pushing through the last few hours of the drive, Tansy has gone from being slap-happy to being deep and philosophical. She’s somehow maneuvered herself so she’s laying with her head on the console, right leg bunched on the seat, left leg stretched up to rest her foot on the roof of the car. “Hey Lil?” She asks. I hum in response, checking to make sure the coast is clear before turning on my signal to get into the exit lane. “What do you think true love is?”

At first, the seriousness of the question doesn’t hit me. I smirk and say, “Why? Realizing how much of a void is in your soul without Collin?” The teasing tone of my voice is very apparent, and Tansy is quick to reach an arm back to hit me. Well, _try_ to hit me, anyway. Her hand barely grazes my arm, hitting the seat instead. “No hitting the driver, crazy! You want to crash?”

“I’m being serious!” My friend whines. “C’mon, Lil, help a sister out! I need to know what you think true love is _right now._ It’s _important._ ”

I roll my eyes, stopping at a red light at the end of the exit. “You need to sleep,” I say, causing her to huff indignantly. I chuckle at her response, then fall silent as I think about the question. What is true love? “Stars, I don’t know. Um…” One would think that all my years on this planet would make answering questions like these easier. The fact of the matter is that I’m a caster. Like many of the others of my kind, I cast a spell to dampen my emotions to a more manageable level centuries ago. I can still _feel_ , it’s just that my emotions are less intense than a human’s. I’ve definitely felt love throughout my lifetimes. I’ve loved any animal companions. I love Tansy. I love my job and what I’ve done with this lifetime. The light turns green and I absentmindedly begin driving again, turning right and heading away from the interstate. “I think… I think true love is whatever you make it to be. I truly love you.”

There’s a long silence. “I love you too, Lillia,” Tansy replies quietly, voice raw with emotion. Then her sass returns, ruining the moment. “But I’m still never going to marry you.” I burst out laughing, because that’s so typical of her. When my mirth has died down, she asks, “Are we there yet?”

“ _You’re_ the one with the map,” I point out. “You tell me.” There’s shuffling, and then the sound of paper unfolding. I wait as time passes, listening to Tansy muttering to herself as she tries to figure out exactly where we are in relation to where we want to be, growing increasingly more amused. This girl cannot read a map to save her life. Half the time, she can’t even tell me which direction north is. “Well?”

“Okay, fine!” Tansy huffs, and I hear the sharp crinkle of paper as she roughly pulls the map down. “I give up. Where the hell are we and how much longer?”

I smile victoriously. “We’re currently in Bangs. We have about forty-five minutes left.”


	4. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lillia and Tansy finally make it to their new home in Ebottville and start to make friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All known and recognizable characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their rightful creator Toby Fox.
> 
> The town of Ebottville is based closely on the layout of the monster town from the game "Deltarune" by Toby Fox.
> 
> I own the plot and any original characters unless otherwise specified.

_Welcome to Ebottville!_

The wooden sign is faded, like it hasn’t been repainted in years. The letters have nearly faded off, and I think I see the remains of some painted flowers and a border, but it’s hard to tell. As we pass the sign, I feel a small, sharp tug in my gut. Over the centuries, I’ve come to associate this small tug with a new reset point. Should anything happen to me, I would end up right back here, at this moment. At least Tansy would still remember me. She’s been through two previous reset points with me before, considering that she was my roommate in college and then again with the apartment. Thanks to her, I now know that people who travel with me to new reset points remember me from the previous point. So if something were to happen to me, we would be right here, in my car, driving into town. Tansy would have no recollection of ever having been in this town before. All of her memories just… _gone_ , lost to the void.

And that’s why nothing will happen to me.

Oblivious to my internal monologues and the tight grip of my hands on the steering wheel, Tansy is vibrating with excitement beside me. “Oh my God, Lil! This place is so stinkin’ cute! I’ve never seen a town this small! Oh, do you think they actually have traffic lights here? I doubt it, it’s so tiny! Oh, look over there! Look at that tiny little hospital! Lillia, we have to go there later!” I breathe out, letting the tension seep away from my body. One hand at a time, I loosen my grip on the steering wheel, letting my friend’s enthusiastic gushing infect me. This is a happy moment—after all, Tansy has never lived anywhere besides a big city or a big college campus before, so this is all new to her.

So I force myself to smile, force my voice to stay light and carefree. “You got it, boss,” I chuckle, eyes scanning the roads for street signs. This _is_ an incredibly small town by today’s standards, so the first four-way-stop that I hit, I turn left. All the while, Tansy is cooing over every little thing she sees. It’s fairly early in the morning, the sun still hovering just over the horizon. I see a few humans out and about, walking dogs, jogging. I also see a fair amount of monsters, too, but that’s not surprising. Several heads turn to watch us, the strange people in a strange car, as I stop at the next intersection, check both ways, and then continue on straight. I turn right at the end of the road, and that’s when Tansy gasps softly.

“It’s right there,” she whispers, in awe. The smile on my face is genuine this time, and when I glance over at her, the sight makes my heart melt. Her cotton candy curls are a wild mess. Her oversized cyan shirt is hanging off one of her shoulders, crinkled and rumpled from spending hours in a car. Her glasses are slowly sliding down her nose. Her cheeks are dusted pink, mouth open slightly, hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

At the end of the road, our new house is clearly visible, set against a background of trees, the mountain towering above in the distance. Two stories high, the siding is a pale, faded yellow. The shingles are a greenish-grey, cluttered with leaves and twigs and moss from the foliage just behind it. There’s a large oak tree in the front yard. I pull down the worn brick drive and park the car, turning it off. Tansy doesn’t move, staring up at the house in silence.

I nudge her shoulder, breaking her out of her trance slightly. “Come on,” I say, nodding my head towards the front door. “Let’s see what it’s like inside.” Absently, Tansy nods, reaching down to unbuckle her seatbelt. I copy her, pulling my keys from the ignition and opening my door, climbing out. When I turn back around to look for my friend, I see that she’s slowly wandering around the front of the car, glancing up at the house every few seconds as if to make sure it hasn’t disappeared like an illusion. It’s always been one of Tansy’s dreams to own a house in a small town, teaching art to young children. She never thought it would happen, and yet, here it is. Together, side-by-side, we walk down the cracked stone path leading to the grey brick steps. Tansy trails her hand over the cast-iron railing, ignoring the dirt that comes away on her palm. The grimy white door itself is rounded into an arched double door, set into a beautiful intricate grey stone archway. Mr. Leeson said that the key was on top of the archway, but it’s way too tall for either of us to reach. I snap my fingers, hand glowing white swirled with brown, and then open my other palm to reveal the house key. Tansy doesn’t even notice, running her fingers over the stone arch. I offer the key to her, the movement gathering her attention.

Reverently, Tansy takes the key from my outstretched palm, staring at it, before stepping in front of the door. Seconds later, the lock clicks and the door is pushed open, revealing a mud room. I watch, biting my lip, as Tansy slowly takes a step inside. As soon as she’s over the threshold, she’s off like a bat, squealing in excitement. Chuckling, I follow after her at a much slower pace, closing the door behind me. Stepping through the mud room takes me into the living room off to the left, where all of our boxes are piled, and separated by a wall with an open archway to the right is the kitchen. At least it’s fully applianced and up-to-date, so we don’t have to worry about that. On the far wall of the living room is a staircase, leading to the second floor, and across from it is what I assume to be a bathroom. I see Tansy’s feet pounding up the last few stairs, listening to her ecstatic chattering. It’s small, that’s for sure. Cramped, in comparison to the layout of our apartment, but it still feels so much more spacious. At the foot of the stairs is another door. Curiosity peaked, I cross the space and unlock it, pulling it open. It leads back outside, into a fenced-off backyard and a beautiful view into the forest. There’s plenty of open space, and a sudden thought strikes me that I haven’t had a garden in nearly forty years.

The harried rush of footsteps break me out of my reverie, and I’m just barely able to get the door closed before Tansy bowls me over. Her arms constrict around my body in a tight hug. “Oh my God, Lillia! I love it! It’s perfect! It’s—” Her stomach growls loudly, making me laugh.

“Let’s get some food in you before you eat _me_ ,” I tease. Tansy, cheeks flushed from excitement and embarrassment, lets go of me and steps back, still grinning. “I think I saw a diner not too far from here. Let’s take a walk and see if it’s open.” Together, we walk back out to the car. I take the house key from Tansy, slipping it onto my key ring, and we collect our phones and purses from the car. We set off down the sidewalk, my arm hung over her shoulder, her arm wrapped casually around my waist. Our new place is on the very end of the cul-de-sac, with no immediate neighbors. There’s a bit of a walk before we reach any other buildings, but the roads are lined with pretty trees and shrubbery. It’s… quiet. A calm, peaceful thing filled only with the sound of the wind and birds chirping in the trees. It’s a nice break from the constant clatter of a city. Across the road from us is a flower shop, I notice, but it’s closed at the moment. There are a few houses just beside it, but we turn to the left and head down to the next intersection.

“I think I saw a park back there,” Tansy says, hiking a thumb over her shoulder. Curiosity sparks, and I glance back and see that she’s right. On the opposite end of our street appears to be a park.

“Hmm…” I hum. “Well then, I guess we’ll just have to check that out at some point, won’t we?” Tansy nods in easy acceptance. We both love the outdoors, love finding parks to spend hours in. My friend loves drawing the people and nature that she sees, loves the natural sunlight. I, on the other hand, love the freedom that comes with wind blowing across my skin, the smell of earth and grass. At the next intersection we turn right, using the crosswalk to get to the other side of the street. The first building we encounter is the diner I’d caught a glimpse of on the drive to the house.

“QC’s Diner,” Tansy reads aloud. “Aw, it’s cute! And look, Lil, it’s open!” Sure enough, despite the fairly early hour, the diner is open. My friend bounces ahead, pushing the door open and laughing in awe at the ding of a bell. To the left of the door are a couple of worn, faded booths. One is occupied by a couple of teenage monsters, from the looks of it, getting breakfast together. There’s another booth off to the right, a human family enjoying their meal. It warms my heart a little to see that, when the alligator monster waitress comes over, the humans just smile at her pleasantly instead of turning away in disgust. A majority of the small establishment is taken up by the long, high-top counter lined with stools. It smells of bacon and maple syrup, and that is enough to comfort me into following my friend to the counter. It’s lined with napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers every few stools, and a kind-looking rabbit monster with purple fur stands behind a register at the end.

As we approach, she gives us a warm smile. “Good morning!” Even her voice gives the impression of hot cocoa, filling your chest on a cold winter’s night. Then she squints a little as Tansy and I sit, as if really looking at us for the first time. “Oh my, are you the new humans in town?”

Tansy shoots the woman a bright smile. “You bet we are!” She chirps with a thumbs up. “I’m Tansy. I’ll be the new art teacher at the school this year.”

The woman smiles again, reaching across and offering her paw-like hand. “I’m Quincy,” she says, “the owner of this diner. My son, Quentin, will be in your class.” Then she turns to me, eyes curious and, to my dislike, a tad wary. “And who might you be, dear?”

I give her my best, kindest smile. I don’t like that she’s wary or distrustful of me. “I’m Lillia,” I reply easily. “The lowly housemate.” I shake her hand as well, and am happy when I see the wariness in her gaze slowly dissipate. It’s not that I don’t understand where she’s coming from, certainly. Even though the government has decreed monsters official citizens, a lot of humans are unhappy with their existence. Honestly, in my opinion, if monsters can survive for a couple hundred years under a mountain before somehow getting back up to the surface, let them stay here in peace, damn it. It all comes back to human nature and plain old fear. Even now, with the government on their side (manner of speaking), monsters face hatred and opposition.

Quincy smiles at me. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both and welcome to Ebottville,” she says before passing us a couple of menus. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Ooh, some orange juice, please!” Tansy grins, her genuine manner and face like an open book quickly garnering her friends, like always. Quincy nods, then waits, turning to me.

“Just water for me, please,” I request in a softer tone. We’re assured that she’ll be right back with those before she disappears into the kitchen. Tansy and I look through the menus. It’s typical diner fare. I know Tansy will probably go for the pancakes, but I’m looking more at the omelet option. It comes with two sides, so I look through those next. A couple minutes later Quincy returns and puts down our respective drinks in front of us,

“Do we know what we want today?” She asks, notepad and pen in hand. “Or do we need more time.”

I glance over at Tansy, who is still looking at the menu, and then clear my throat a little. “I’d like the omelet special with hashbrowns and toast, please,” I tell her. Quincy nods as she writes, and then turns to Tansy expectantly.

My friend yawns widely, looking decidedly less awake. “Pancakes, please,” she says with a smile. “With uh… bacon and toast, please. Extra syrup.”

“That will be right up, dears.” She collects our menus and walks away again. Stretching slightly, I reach over the counter to pick up my water, lifting the glass to my lips and taking a hearty swallow. The quiet ambiance of the diner around me is comforting, almost soothing in away, and I find the tension from driving for so long slowly melting away. I put the glass down and set my elbow on the wooden surface in front of me, resting my cheek in my palm. With my other hand, I pull out my phone and unlock it, turning on my data and then searching for Twisted’s website. I hear Tansy shift beside me, but don’t look up. Hayley’s gone ahead and updated the management information for the store back in the city, but I also notice a new addition to the site—a ‘location’ link. Slightly confused, I tap on it and am redirected to a separate page. The address of the original store location is posted proudly at the top, as well as pictures of the building inside and out. Below that is a little notification stating that another location is soon to come in Ebottville. I smile, shaking my head. This has Skyler written all over it, or I’m not a spellcaster.

“Hey, Tans,” I start, laughing a little. “Check this out.” When I turn to show her my phone, I freeze as my heart melts all over again. Tansy is slumped over on the counter, arms cradling her head. Her glasses are squished awkwardly against her face. Her breathing is deep and rhythmic. In hindsight, I should have seen this coming. Even after driving for several hours while I slept, Tansy refused to sleep when I took back the steering wheel. She’d stayed up and pestered me for the rest of the nine-hour drive. I’m pretty sure she’d used whatever was left of her energy up back at the house when she was zooming around like a woman on crack. With a small sigh and a fond smile, I turn off my data and put my phone on standby before shoving it in my pocket. I notice Quincy walking back towards the kitchen, away from a large bipedal wolf monster sat a few stools down and wave her over.

When she sees Tansy asleep on the counter, she looks concerned. “Oh my, is she all right?”

I nod. “She’s fine,” I assure her. “Just needs to sleep. Would it be too much trouble to get our food to go?” 

Quincy shakes her head, smiling a little. “No trouble at all, dear.” She heads into the kitchen, and while I wait, I fish out a twenty from my wallet and leave it on the surface in front of me. After that, I carefully remove Tansy’s glasses and tuck them away in my purse so they don’t get damaged. Just as I slide off my stool, Quincy comes back out with a large plastic bag, a couple to-go boxes nestles safely inside.

I shoot her a grateful smile before turning to my friend. Placing a hand on her shoulder, I say, “All right, Tans, time for the train. All aboard.” My touch and words wake her up just enough for her to lift her head and hold up her arms. I guide them around my neck, then guide her legs to wrap around my waist, and heft her up onto my back. Tansy’s head flops onto my shoulder, arms flopping out in front of me as she falls right back into a deeper sleep. Then I turn to Quincy and nod at the money on the counter. “That should cover everything, and keep the change.” I let go of Tansy’s thigh with my right hand and grab the bag off the counter before returning it to Tansy’s leg.

Quincy picks up the money. “Are you sure you’ll be alright carrying her all the way back to your house, dear? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Her concern is appreciated, and for a human, carrying another person about their size and weight might pose a bit of an issue, but I’ll be fine. “Oh, it won’t be a problem,” I say. “Tansy here barely weighs a thing and it’s not that far of a walk, anyway.” She’s still not convinced. “Look, this used to happen a lot during college. I’d find her in the commons or in the library passed out and have to carry her back to our room.”

“Well, if you insist,” Quincy says slowly. I adjust my grip on Tansy’s other thigh, bouncing slightly to keep her from slipping too much. “You two have a nice day.”

“You as well.” I turn and head for the door, nudging it open with my foot. Outside, the sun has risen a fair amount and the small town has suddenly woken up. Kids are running around, laughing and yelling. A police car slowly cruises down the road, stopping just in front of the diner. I set off down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, watching life pass around me. I cross the road again, turning left and heading uphill. As I walk, I notice a flash of blue and pink every now and then, ducking behind trees and bushes. Smirking, I quicken my place until I can swing to the right, ducking around the back of the nearest building. White swirled with brown encases me, and then I’m right back on the sidewalk again, watching a little kid with brown hair and a blue and pink striped sweater look around. Grinning, I sneak up behind them, my footsteps far too light for someone carrying a person on their back, and stop just behind them. “Boo.”

The kid jumps and spins around, grinning up at me. The kid is tiny. Like, super small—the top of their head just about level with my waist. Also not quite sure if they’re a boy or a girl, so there’s that, too. They bring their little hands up in front of them and begin making signs and _oh_. Sign language. It’s been a solid ten years since I learned it, so I’m a little rusty, but I manage to get the gist.

“My name is Lillia,” I respond. “And it’s very nice to meet you, Frisk. That’s a cool name.” I look around, trying to find an adult. Kid just seems a bit too young to be out on their own. “Say, where’re your parents, kiddo?” They just shrug. Ah—so they’re not _supposed_ to be out right now. “Right. Well then, why don’t you stick with us?” The kid just grins and reaches up, grabbing hold of the hem on Tansy’s sweats. We walk in companionable silence, and I’m careful to keep my strides small enough to let the kid keep up easily. We go past the building I’d ducked around, which I note as the grocery store, until we get to the top of the hill and head to the right. Once we make it back to my house, I manage to pull my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door. “Stay right out here, kiddo. I gotta put my friend here down and put my food away and then I’ll meet you right back out here.” Little Frisk nods, sitting down on the steps.

I smile and step inside, shutting the door just enough to hide me from view. White, smoke-like magic spreads out, passing through boxes until one with bedding opens. Several blankets float out from inside before laying themselves out on the floor in a makeshift bed. More white magic carries Tansy over to it, tucking her in. Poor girl just rolls over and sighs. The bag in my hand is carried into the kitchen, where I hear the refrigerator door open and close. Satisfied, I walk back outside. Frisk is still sitting on the steps, kicking their little legs. I lock and shut the door before sitting next to them.

“So,” I start. “What’s your favorite color?” Fingers start flying again, and my lessons are slowly but surely coming back to me as I watch. “Neat! I like red, too, but my favorite color is probably blue. Now you ask me one.” They lift their chin to meet my gaze, the color of their eyes captivating. They carefully sign out their question. “My friend’s name is Tansy. She’s gonna be your art teacher when school starts.” They nod, smile lighting up their face. I hesitate for a moment, thinking. Something tells me that this kid snuck out of their house, and I’m sure their parents are worried sick by now. “So how long are you gonna make your parents worry about you?” Their cheeks flush and puff out as they look away sheepishly. I chuckle. “Yeah, thought as much. Why don’t I walk you home? It’s only fair, after all. You’ve seen my house.”

The kid nods and clambers to their feet before turning around and grabbing my hand, tugging. I laugh and stand up as well. They pull me to the sidewalk opposite the one we’d just been on, skipping over the cracks. They don’t seem too bothered by the fact that they’re holding hands with a near-stranger, but then again, that’s children for you. I’m just glad that I’m the one who found them instead of someone who might actually hurt them. We pass the flower shop I’d seen earlier, and then pass a succession of three houses before turning to the right and heading uphill again. I can just see the roof and chimney at the top. It’s a cute little house, white with blue trimming. Two stories, slightly larger than my new house. There’s a car parked off to the right of the house, and as we get closer, Frisk’s playful skipping slows down. Their breathing is a little labored, so I know it’s because they’re a little tired.

They tug me up the steps and onto the porch, where I knock on the blue door. It takes a minute, but then it’s pulled open and I’m faced with a large monster. It has white fur covering its body as well as long, floppy ears and little horns poking up from its head. The shape of its face reminds me almost of a goat, and it lets out a distinctly feminine gasp when they see Frisk. “Oh, my child! Thank goodness! I’ve told you not to sneak out of your window! Are you okay? No cuts or bruises?” Little Frisk shakes their head, smiling. The goat-like monster woman breathes out a long sigh of relief. “Go and wash up for breakfast.” Frisk lets go of my hand, hesitates, then hugs my thigh before running inside. And yeah, that hit me right in the heart. The goat woman gives me a smile, reaching out her hand to clasp mine. “Thank you for bringing them back home safe, child. They’re constantly running off. I know they’re strong, but it sends me into a near heart attack every time!”

I laugh with her and say, “Well, that’s what moms are for. I’m Lillia. My friend and I just moved in today, down the hill. We’re in the little yellow house.”

Recognition crosses the woman’s face. “I am Toriel, child,” she tells me, patting my hand still in her grasp. The gesture reminds me of someone I used to know a very, very long time ago. Sadness and longing pings in my chest and must show on my face, because the next thing I know, I’m being pulled inside the cozy house. I am hustled over to a human-sized armchair, though it is right across from one Toriel’s size. Seconds after that, a cup of warm tea is set in my hands. Toriel pats my cheek before sitting down across from me. “You haven’t had a mother in a long time, have you, child?” 

I huff a laugh, at both the title she’s given me and the fact that she’s almost right. “No, I don’t suppose I have,” I reply softly, looking down at the tea in my hand. Spellcasters do not have parents. Our physical forms are created with magic, brought to life with magic. Back in my day, when casters could live in peace in small communities, the oldest and most powerful would create spellcaster children. We would then be given to Matrons to be cared for and taught how to use our own magic. My own Matron hadn’t been particularly motherly in comparison to human mothers, but she did genuinely care for my wellbeing. Whenever my un-dampened emotions flared wild, she would often sit me down with a stern face. She would pick up one of my hands in both of hers and gently pat it, then force me to talk through what had caused that particular mood swing. I’d fuss and refuse at first, but eventually, I’d tell her and feel better. But I can’t tell Toriel that.

Toriel gives me a sad little smile. “I find most humans your age feel the same way, child.” Her eyes grow a little distant. Within seconds, she’s back from her head. “Not to worry. If you ever need anything, even if it’s just a hug and a fresh-baked pie, you come right here, understood?” 

Little Frisk darts into the room, scrambling into my lap before I can blink and forcing me to lift the mug of tea in my hands up and out of the way to avoid being spilled. “Whoa, there, kiddo,” I chuckle a little wetly. They turn to look at me, eyes locked on my neck. Little hands reach up and gently grab the pendant that is usually hidden under my shirt, the black cord pulling slightly on the back of my neck. I glance down to watch them run small fingers over the owl sitting on a crescent moon carved from bone. “You like that?” They nod. “Someone from a long time ago gave it to me.” Although I won’t disclose from just exactly how long ago that was. Frisk turns to Toriel, dropping my necklace in order to sign something that I can’t see.

“Of course, my child,” Toriel replies. “Miss Lillia is welcome to come over at any time. Now hurry up, my child, because your breakfast is getting cold.” Frisk slides out of my lap, turns to wave at me, and then runs off again. “They’re certainly a handful.” Her voice is fond, and I note that she calls Frisk ‘them.’ In this age, some people prefer not to be labelled with genders. While it’s not something I pretend to understand, having spent centuries as a distinct female, but I don’t go out of my way to be a nuisance about it. I’m a firm believer of letting people be whoever they are and whoever they want to be without judgement. I’ve never seen someone as young as Frisk do something like this, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose, even for someone like me. “But I love them as much as I loved my own children.” I can hear the sadness in her voice, the past tense of her words settling in my chest like a weight.

Without thinking, I put the mug of tea down on the table next to me and stand, crossing over to hug Toriel. She hesitates for a moment, and then her arms come up to wrap around my frame tightly. I don’t say anything. It’s human nature to apologize when someone is feeling grief, but apologies don’t make the pain go away. Telling someone that it will be okay doesn’t get them through this moment when it clearly isn’t fine. I know loss. I’ve spent centuries looking at it both personally and as an outsider, watching humans grow and age and die. I’ve seen wars that tear loved ones apart, pitting brother against brother. I’ve seen ruthless massacres, love-stricken suicides, incurable diseases. No matter if the loss is personal or being observed from the outside, it is nothing to ignore and brush aside. We stay this way for quite a while, hugging each other. The quiet clatter of utensils against china floats through the house.

Eventually, Toriel sniffs and lets go of me. I give her one last squeeze before letting my own arms drop. I step away and smile at her. “I should get back home,” I say quietly. “Lots to do. But if you or Frisk ever need anything, my door is open. Besides, I have a feeling my friend will love you both.”

“Thank you, child. Now go on.” She walks me back to the door and waves at me as I walk away. I walk until I reach the bottom of the hill, just out of sight, and then use my magic to take myself directly into the house. Tansy is still fast asleep on the living room floor, but the weight in my chest is still there. It’s not a pleasant feeling—in fact, it’s one I’d thoroughly like to forget. Glancing around the house, I walk into the kitchen and open up the fridge, grabbing my breakfast from QC’s. It’s cold and we don’t exactly have a microwave at the moment, but cold food is better than no food at all. I eat it whilst leaning against the counter, staring out of the window. Once it’s gone, I set about wandering the house. The living room has a fireplace. Our TV can easily fit on the mantelpiece, as long as we mount it correctly to the wall. Once the boxes are moved, there should be enough space for a loveseat and a couple of armchairs. We need a table and chairs to eat at, and from the size of the kitchen, it needs to be fairly small. 

The bathroom is pretty plain, and knowing Tansy, the white walls will be too much of a temptation and they’ll end up being covered in wild, colorful patterns of paint. The stairs are worn brown wood, the banister painted white. I take them one at a time, keeping my footsteps near silent so as to not wake Tansy, until I reach the top. There’s a short hallway, with a little open space off to the left with a bay window to let in lots of natural light. I can easily see this space becoming Tansy’s new art studio. There’s only one wooden door on the right side of the hall, and when I peek inside, I see that it’s the master bedroom complete with a walk-in closet and the master bath. The only door on the left is the second bedroom. Tansy and I haven’t talked about who will get which bedroom yet. Back in the apartment, I had the “master” bedroom, though the only difference is that it was just slightly larger than Tansy’s. I’d tried to give it to her when we moved in, but she insisted that I have it because of my work schedule. I pull out my phone and unlock it, pausing when I see the Twisted location website still pulled up, then exit out of that and open up my notepad. I make a list of all the furniture we need to buy, including beds, nightstands and a wardrobe. I make a separate list in another note detailing what needs to be done around the house, like cleaning inside and out and unpacking. We also need to go grocery shopping at some point, because the emptiness of the fridge is a little depressing.

I haven’t even _started_ in on my new shop.

Blowing out a puff of air, I push my fingers through my side swept fringe. I knew it was going to be a lot of work going into this, but _damn_ did I just kind of brush it off. On top of that, Tansy starts at the school in a couple weeks, and once that happens, she’ll be really busy with lesson plans and such. I knew that before starting this process, too, but once again, just kind of accepted it without stopping to think just how much work I have cut out for me. I flip between my two lists, debating. I didn’t see a furniture store anywhere in town, which means driving some forty-five minutes to an hour away. The couches and kitchen table will be easy enough, but Tansy will definitely want to choose her own furniture for her room, and we need to sit down and hash out who’s sleeping where. Still, I definitely cannot stuff a loveseat into my car, which means delivery, and something tells me I might find some issues getting stuff delivered because of where I now live. I’m not too worried about it, though, because I have a few tricks up my sleeve.

I decide to wait on both lists, heading back downstairs and into the living room. Stepping around Tansy’s sleeping form, I lift the first box I encounter and read the label. Tansy’s bold handwriting is scrawled across the top: _ART SUPPLIES!!!!!_ There are several hearts drawn around the words and I chuckle softly. I put that box down near the foot of the stairs and walk back to get another. This one is labelled as plates and bowls, so I take it into the kitchen. Back and forth I go, sorting boxes. Once all the boxes for the downstairs area are sorted, I carry the ones piled by the stairs up to the second floor. I leave the art supplies in the little bay window nook and stack the rest against the wall at the far end of the hallway. With that done, I hunt down a piece of paper from one of Tansy’s many notebooks in her art supplies, steal some type of art pen while I’m at it, and write out a little note.

_Tans, you fell asleep in QC’s so I carried you back home. Your food is in the fridge. I stepped out to go to the grocery store and will be back soon. Go ahead and pick your room._

_Lillia_

I walk back downstairs and leave the note on the floor next to my friend. Taking a deep breath, I exit the house again and climb into the car, opting to drive. I’m not entirely sure what this little store will carry. Nothing like Wal-Mart and Target, certainly, but I’m hoping that they’ll possibly carry some fabric that I can use and manipulate. Even if it’s something as simple as a decent amount of cotton fabric, I can work with that. Still, even if there isn’t any fabric, I need to pick up food, and since I don’t fancy carrying a ton of bags back home, the car is the best option. I climb back into the driver’s seat, then realize that our suitcases and such are still in the trunk. My pillow and a few blankets are scattered haphazardly across the backseat where I’d slept during the drive. Oh well. I’ll just have to deal with that later, I guess. I back down the drive and then set off, moving at a slow, twenty-five miles per hour. There’s no posted speed limit, but better safe than sorry. Besides, there are plenty of kids out and about, enjoying their last couple weeks of freedom before school begins.

I find a nice spot on the side of the road just in front of the grocery store. The sign on the bay window proclaims the little place to be open, but has no hours listed, which I find a little odd. There’s a large sign near the top of the building, but a majority of it has been messily scratched out. The only surviving characters from the original sign is an apostrophe and an _S_. Carved into the wood next to it in a smaller, messier hand is _ans_.

 _Sans, huh?_ I think to myself, climbing out of my car and shutting the door. _Strange name._ Then again, I’m not one to talk. Lilly is a popular name. So is Lillian. Hell, even _Lila_ is more common than my chosen name of Lillia for this lifetime. Huffing a quiet laugh, I walk over to the door and twist the knob, pulling it open and stepping inside. Off to the left is an abandoned register. The inside is a lot bigger than the outside suggests, almost to the point where I’m suspicious. There’s no logical way that this is possible, unless someone is using—

 _Magic._ Now that I’m really focusing, I can feel the faint undercurrent of magic, resting just below the visible surface. Someone has enchanted the building and expelled quite a bit of energy and mana in order to create this undetectable extension spell. Slightly impressed, I wander into the building. There’s a grocery section, fresh veggies and fruits as well as boxed and canned foods. I also find a meat section nearby. There’s a small selection of clothes and other amenities necessary for daily life, such as shampoo and toothpaste. The building is completely empty. Frowning, I look towards the window to see if maybe I’ve read it wrong, but the sign says it’s open and the door was unlocked. Maybe the employees are just in the back or something. Shrugging it off, I collect a blue plastic basket, tucking the handles in the crook of my elbow and walk over to the food. It’s a very random selection of items, I’m forced to admit, but I find a few familiar brands and add them to the basket. Bread, eggs, milk, several selections of meat, veggies, and fruit. I happen across some bags of mini marshmallows and some chocolate chips, hesitate, then add them to the cart. Tansy loves my s’mores cookies, and they’ll be a welcome comfort in a place that doesn’t fully feel like home. Besides, people love baked goods. I grab some sugar and flour, as well as baking soda and powder, salt, vanilla extract, cocoa powder, powdered sugar, and then some pepper, too. 

At this point in time, the basket is getting quite heavy, and I decide that this will get us through for a few days at the very least. Still, as I start to head towards the check-out counter, I snag a box of spaghetti and some sauce as well. The counter is still empty, and my curiosity gets the better of me, so I wander over to a little back corner of the store that’s filled with a random mix of items. Watches, some electronics, a scented wax melter, some craft supplies. The prices are extremely low, I notice. I hum, curious, and move back to the closest food shelf. These prices are definitely jacked. Way too low. How on earth is this place making any money? Sure, it’s the only grocery store in town, but still. Most of the revenue has to be going back into buying more stock. 

I start to head towards the counter, but as I do, something catches my eye. Upon further investigation, I find about a yard of neon green cotton fabric. I snatch it up because I can work with this. Happy with my haul, I finally approach the check-out counter. Still empty and devoid of life, I hesitantly set my basket down on the surface. There’s no service bell or anything. I don’t see a door to a back room. Maybe the employees are out back smoking or something? I shift my weight a little bit as I debate. I can’t just take the stuff, and I’d like to mention the pricing system, but there’s no one in sight. Noticing a notepad and a pen, I slide them over and start to write.

 _Hello! I think I may have missed you, but I’m in a bit of a rush. Here’s a list of everything I took and enough money to cover the cost. Speaking of which, I noticed that your pricing is a little off, so here’s an example of what one normally sees in a store. This way you can still buy more stock and actually make money as well._ I painstakingly list out each item in my basket, the price it’s listed for, and with the help of Google, the price it would normally be. I leave enough money to cover my estimated total instead of the store’s, and then as a last minute thought, add my number in case they have any questions. There’s a small stack of paper rope-handled bags, and I load my purchases up inside a few of them. I return the basket where I found it, and after another glance around the store, take my items and leave. I set the bags in the backseat of my car and climb in.

“Well that was strange,” I mutter to myself as I drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said we'd meet Sans this chapter, but it just kept stretching on and on and I couldn't resist the temptation to leave you all hanging.
> 
> Sorry-not-sorry, suckers.
> 
> Originally, Lillia and Sans did meet in his store, but as the rest of the story begins to set itself up in my mind, it didn't pan out that way.


	5. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of time, a lot of problems, and a promise, Lillia finally meets a few other monsters in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All known and recognizable characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their creator Toby Fox.
> 
> The song briefly mentioned in this chapter is "Dancing in the Moonlight" by King Harvest and does not belong to me.

The next two weeks pass in a blur of boxes, cleaning, and craziness. Tansy had wanted to start unpacking immediately, but I reeled her back in by reminding her that we should really scrub the place top to bottom. She has really bad allergies, especially when it comes to dust, so I compromised with her by helping her clean her chosen room, which happens to be the smaller room (“My answer is final, Lil. _You’re_ the one who’s trying to open up a new business.”) so she can unpack her things. With the fabric I’d collected and wood from the forest outside, I’m able to use my magic to make us furniture: beds, tables, nightstands, chairs, and a loveseat with a couple of matching armchairs. Magic can do a lot of things, but making items out of nothing is not one of them. I needed material to work with, even if just a little scrap, and then used my magic to change the texture, color, and pattern of the material to suit my needs. After that, I started cleaning downstairs one room at a time, unpacking after I cleaned up. 

At this point in time, the only thing I have left on the inside is my own bedroom. 

It’s currently eight-thirty in the morning and I’m sitting, bleary-eyed, on Tansy’s bed, watching her run around in a panic. She’s tossing clothes left and right, frantically trying to figure out what to wear on her first actual day of school. For the last week she’d had meetings in the morning and spent most of the afternoon setting up her classroom and first handful of projects for the kids. “Oh my God, where the _hell_ is that one shirt?” Tansy had dragged me out of bed at five this morning after I finished cleaning my room just in time to fall asleep at about three, proclaiming that she needed my help to choose an outfit. So far, she hasn’t given me a chance for any input.

I breathe in and then out, slowly, praying for patience because if I ask for strength, this girl is gonna end up unconscious. “Tansy, which shirt are you looking for?”

My friend growls in frustration, head buried in her closet. “The baby blue one with the pink flowers!” I blink a few times at her back before picking up the shirt she’d thrown at me nearly an hour ago, clearing my throat. Tansy huffs and whirls around, hands on her hips, clearly ready to give me the third degree. She stops short when she sees the mentioned clothing article dangling from my fingertips, then marches over and snatches it away. She pulls it on and darts over to her floor-length mirror, chewing on her lip despite the glossy, bubblegum pink lipstick she’d just put on. For a second, I think we’re done here, but then she looks down at her black ruffled skirt and sighs loudly. “What the hell am I thinking? A _skirt_ to teach _art_ to little kids? Where the hell are my grey skinny jeans?” I suppress a groan of mild frustration when Tansy whirls around and begins digging through the pile of jeans on the floor at the foot of her bed. Before I can do anything to help, she straightens up and shucks her skirt, yanking the jeans on and up over her hips. Back to the mirror she goes, and I hold my breath and hope for a miracle.

Nope.

“Ugh, something’s missing!” Tansy cries, turning sharply to face me. “Lillia, help me!”

I give her a mild glare and point to the bed. “Sit,” I order. She sticks her tongue out at me as she complies, flopping petulantly onto the mattress. “Stay.” Glancing at her chosen outfit, I stand up and move over to her closet. I find a cardigan in the same pink as the flowers on her shirt with three-quarter sleeves. I toss it to her and then move over to her vanity, pawing through her jewelry box. I find a white crystal on a golden chain and grab a pair of small golden hoop earrings to match. I know Tansy doesn’t wear bracelets or rings when she paints, so I don’t bother with those. I cross the room to drop them into my friend’s palms before moving back to the closet to look at her shoe selection. She’ll be on her feet quite a bit, so something comfortable. Heels are definitely out for her, because if I know Tansy, she’ll end up taking them off about five minutes after getting to the school. Not very professional, so let’s avoid that. I find a simple pair of grey flats and go with those. I drop them at Tansy’s feet and then send a pointed look to the alarm clock on her nightstand. “Move faster or you’re gonna be late.” Tansy curses again and scrambles to put the shoes on, collect her purse, and run downstairs.

Too tired to try and beat her manually, I use my magic and meet her at the front door, her lunch in my left hand and my car keys in the right. “ _Fuck_ , Lillia, don’t do that!” Tansy yelps.

I just sigh. “Don’t forget this.” I shove her lunch at her. “And take my car so you’ll get there faster.” Tansy pulls me into a quick hug, yanks the lanyard from my grasp, and disappears in a flurry. I watch her climb into my car, headlights flaring up as the engine is started, and then the vehicle backs down the driveway before turning around and disappearing down the street. I shake my head and close the front door before leaning against it with a tired sigh. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but if I do that now, I’ll screw up any semblance of a sleep schedule I may have. Not to mention I’ll be wasting the rest of a perfectly good day in which to get stuff done.

I really want to go back to sleep.

With a heavy, self-loathing sigh, I peel myself away from the door and walk back upstairs. The majority of the boxes containing my clothes and personal belongings are still stacked against the far end of the hall, but the one containing my bathroom stuff has been moved into the master bathroom. Speaking of which, a shower sounds _epic_ right now. I feel grimy from cleaning all night and into the morning, and part of me idly wonders how the hell I decided it was a good idea to crash like this anyway. Ugh, now I’ll have to wash my sheets. While I let the water heat up, I strip out of my clothes and drop them in a disgusting heap on the floor and then kick them slightly for good measure. The shower in this new place is actually a completely separate entity from the bathtub, something I find vaguely amusing, but I’ll have to investigate the strange-shaped tub another time. Hopping into the shower, I let the scalding water pound against my muscles and turn my pale skin bright red. For a moment, I’m too lost in thought to start cleaning myself. Getting my belongings unpacked won’t take more than half of the remaining day, thankfully, but then there’s the matter of the outside. During a short break between cleaning and unpacking the downstairs bathroom, I’d taken a walk around the property, grimacing at the sorry state.

The house itself is perfectly fine, of course, but everything is faded and dirty and overgrown. The yellow siding is faded and covered in mossy green grime. The roof hasn’t fared any better. The lawn both front and back is atrocious, long and unkempt. The oak tree in the front could use a good whack to some of the low-hanging branches—and of _course_ , I don’t have any of the equipment necessary to take care of it. I huff a little, closing my eyes and leaning against the wall. It’d be _so_ easy to just take care of it with magic. Y’know, just kinda concentrate a little and then everything would be fine, but people might get suspicious if I do. I’ll probably need to hire a company to come out and do it for me, spending _more_ money that we don’t necessarily have at the moment. Don’t get me wrong—Tansy and I are far from broke, but with the move and the lack of her paycheck, we have to be very careful about what we spend. I’m still getting paychecks from my other store, seeing as I’m the owner, which helps. Now that school has started, Tansy will start in on a salary instead of hourly pay. Things will be even easier once I get my new store open, and _fuck._ Kinda forgot about it in my haze the past couple of weeks.

I still have yet to even _look_ at the new space, though I have recently determined its location to be just across the street from QC’s and the town’s pizza place. I’d like to get a look at that today, too, so I can get an estimate of the sizing. Looking at numbers on a website doesn’t really let you get a feel of the space. Somehow, in my free time, I’d managed to call one of my contacts and order some coffee and bakery equipment at the beginning of last week. The only thing I’d really needed to order in terms of the bakery part was a decent-sized fridge and a fairly large baker’s oven. Not exactly cheap, but I’m on good terms with the seller, having met him whilst opening the first Twisted and building a report, so he gave me a little discount. As for the coffee machines, that was a fairly hefty bill. I contacted another friend of mine who had designed and built the original display-case/bar and ordered another one, just slightly smaller than the first.

There’s a shift in the temperature of the water, coming down from scalding to a nice heat. Maybe the water heater has had enough of the intense heat level, maybe my skin has just gotten used to it, but whichever it is, it breaks me out of my trance. Pulling myself off the wall, I start in on my normal routine and stumble out several minutes later. I shut off the water and wrap myself in a couple of towels. The bathroom is steamy, fogging the mirror above the sink, and I wipe it away with an irritated scowl. I squeeze the excess moisture from my long hair before tying the strands into a simple braid that flops over my shoulder. I skip makeup, don my simple robe, and hang up my towels to dry. After that, I gingerly pick up my dirty clothes and carry them out into my room, dropping them into the hamper. I take a moment to strip my bed as well, shoving the ball of sheets on top of my dirty clothes. It’s too quiet. Strolling over to my phone, still on charge on my nightstand, I unlock it and scroll through my music selections. It’s a… _daunting_ decision.

I enjoy music and have for a number of years. And my number of years has allowed me to experience all the different types and genres this world has to offer. I also may or may not have some hoarder tendencies and collect an unearthly amount of music from all ages. I’m leaving that undiagnosed, though—I live with it. In all honesty, I really only collect crystals and music. Crystals don’t do much in terms of spellcasting despite what humans believe, but they are pretty and just make me happy. Not awake enough to really make a decision on what type of music to listen to, I find a random, eclectic mix of a playlist and hit shuffle. My phone automatically connects to the cheap bluetooth speaker sitting on the desk shoved in the corner of the room, and I move over to open the curtains and crack the window slightly to allow for fresh air. Feeling a little bit better now, I start moving boxes into the room from out in the hall. Clothes and shoes are left near the closet. Books near the bookshelf. Work by the desk. Knick-knacks and miscellaneous sat by the bed.

The clothes are going to take the longest, so I start with that. I open all of those boxes, looking for the bundle of hangers—and, go figure, they’re in the last box I open—and then set to work. I created a small set of drawers for my pants and undergarments when I made the other furniture, and it’s shoved off into the left side of the walk-in space. I hang up shirts, dresses, and jackets, organizing them by color. While I don’t have as many options as Tansy when it comes to the color department, I have a few pieces in every color of the rainbow. I do have a tendency of leaning towards darker colors, now that I’m thinking about it. Even my red shirts are more of a wine color, deep and rich. I break down each box after its emptied, piling them by the door of my room to take to recycling later. I pile my jeans, slacks, leggings, and shorts into two of the drawers and my undergarments into the final one. I meticulously line up my shoes along the floor of the right side of the closet.

I work on the desk area next, arranging binders, notebooks, my printer, supplies, and work-related items around the space carefully. After that is the bookshelf. This takes me the least amount of time, because unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to organize my books. As long as the series are grouped together, the rest is just whatever I can jam in the space. All that leaves now is my crystal collection and other little things to make the space more personal. I have a ton of photos. Some are of Tansy, Twisted, and a few other college friends. Most are of nature that I’ve taken myself over the years. The camera quality can attest to that one, as well as the lack of color on some. While most of the photos are in hanging frames, I have a few standing ones, and take a good half-hour to arrange them on my walls and surfaces. I have a set of wall-mounted shelves that I arrange my crystals on, toss down my area rug in a deep blue, and decide I’m done for now. This room is much larger than my old one, and even with the addition of a desk, it feels empty. I know I won’t be happy until I’ve crammed every inch of the space with something fun or interesting.

My phone dings, breaking the comforting flow of the current song, and capturing my attention. Curious, I wander over to the nightstand to see what’s up. It’s a text from Tansy reminding me to eat at some point today, and my stomach angrily agrees with her. Holy hell, how is it already two in the afternoon? No wonder I’m so hungry. I throw on a pair of leggings and a random T-shirt, slipping on a pair of socks. I hang up my robe on the bathroom door, pull on some shoes, and decide to go hunt down some food. Tansy said she’d go shopping after school, seeing as the only thing we have left in the fridge is milk and a lemon, which means I’m going out for lunch.

Pizza sounds amazing.

I walk downstairs and collect my purse, sighing when I realize that the only house key we have right now is on my key ring with Tansy. At least it isn’t the city, where break-ins happen every other day. I walk outside, into the sunshine, and pull in a deep breath. Any tension left in my body melts away in the warm afternoon air. This town really is beautiful. Sure, the buildings are older and often dirty or worn down, but to me, they just have character. They clearly have stories to tell, and if walls could talk, I’d spend hours listening. Then again, I always sit down and listen to the eldery people I find in parks and stores, because they have such wonderful stories. So what if I lived through the same lifetime and events? Everybody has different perspectives on those events, and I find them all fascinating.

Breaking myself out of my thoughts, I set off down the stairs, unthinkingly running my hand down the grimy cast-iron railing. “Damnit,” I mutter as I realize too late. I lift my palm away from the surface to inspect the damage, because apparently, I decided on one of my three white T-shirts this afternoon. What I see makes me pause—my hand is completely grime-free. “Huh.” I turn my gaze over to the railing itself, noticing that the black paint seems to be bright and shiny. My eyes widen and I whip around to get a look at the rest of the tiny porch, noting the cleanliness of the entire thing. You have _got_ to be kidding me! In my tired, half-asleep state, I actually followed through on the whim to take care of the lawn and outside of the house with magic. I want to hit myself because honestly? That was dangerous. _Especially_ in the daylight. Luckily, it doesn’t look like anyone is particularly keen on being out and about today, considering all of the kids are now in school and most of the adults are currently at work. I breathe a small sigh of relief and hurry down the steps, walking with a somewhat angry stride.

I have an immaculate hold on my magic. I’ve spent nearly eight years in this lifetime without an issue, only to nearly mess everything up now, after Tansy has her dream job. Not for the first time, as I hurry over to Ice-E’s Pizza place, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by sticking close to Tansy. If something were to happen to me, it would reflect on her as well, no matter what the outcome.

Just as I go to cross the street, a small weight slams itself into my leg and causes me to stumble. “What the—kiddo?” Sure enough, Frisk has wrapped themself around my calf, staring up at me with a bright grin. “Uh, shouldn’t you be in school right now?” Frisk shakes their head, letting go of my leg just long enough to sign a response. Oh. Because of a medical reason, Frisk is allowed to leave school a little early on Mondays and walk home. They just happened to see me and get side-tracked. I sigh, giving them a little bit of a wry smile. “You hungry?” They nod enthusiastically. “Come on, I’ll get us a pizza.” I lift the small child up easily, plopping them on my shoulders. Their hands wrap around my forehead, feet bouncing excitedly. I walk us across the street and down the sidewalk, past QC’s, and into the pizza shop. It’s pretty empty right now, so I let Frisk down and tell them to pick a spot. After that, I order a medium cheese, figuring it a safe bet, and while I wait for it, I call Toriel and let her know that Frisk is with me. She sounds relieved and tells us to have fun.

Ten minutes later, I’m handed a steaming cheese pizza, the delectable smell causing my mouth to water. I walk it over to the booth that Frisk has chosen, sliding into the seat across from them. “All right, kiddo, dig in. But be careful and don’t burn yourself, you hear?” Frisk nods and reaches for a slice. I chuckle and pick up a slice of my own, blowing on it for a minute or so before taking a bite. Together, we sit in companionable silence and destroy the pizza. Part of me worries that I’m ruining the kid’s appetite, but then shake it off. Sorry, Toriel! I notice the mess on the kid’s face and hands and it makes me giggle. “All right, Frisk, go wash up while I clean up this mess.” They nod and bounce off to the bathroom. I collect the napkins and empty pizza box, sweeping any crumbs and globs of sauce off the surface with another napkin before throwing it all away.

My phone begins to ring. Confused, I pull the little device out of my pocket and frown at the number for a second before answering. “Hello?”

" _Is this a Miss Lillia Hanlon?_ ”

The voice is unfamiliar. “Speaking,” I confirm. “Who is this?”

“ _I’m with ProBake._ ” I relax at that. ProBake is the company I ordered my oven and fridge from for my store. “ _I’m sorry to say that there’s been a slight mistake concerning contacting you about your order. You should have been called yesterday to tell you that your order will be arriving and installed today, but somehow, your name was marked off as completed without the call being made. Your order is about fifteen minutes away from delivery._ ” The poor employee on the other end sounds like she’s expecting to get yelled at.

I chuckle, looking across the street to see my empty little shop just a hop, skip, and a jump away. “That won’t be a problem,” I tell her. “I’ll meet the delivery truck there.”

“ _Oh. Perfect! I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Because it was our mistake, we’ve taken off the installation fee. Have a wonderful day, Miss Hanlon!_ ” I wish the same to her and hang up, pushing my phone back into my pocket. I turn around to look for Frisk, only to jump when they’re stood right behind me. “Jeeze, kiddo!” I huff, pressing a hand to my chest. “Make a noise or something, why don’tcha?” They just grin up at me. I glance at the time. Fifteen minutes isn’t long enough to walk Frisk back up to the top of the town and deliver them to Toriel and still make it back on time. “Okay, here’s the deal, kiddo: I gotta go across the street and supervise as some people put some stuff in my new store. Why don’t you stick with me until they’re done, and then I can walk you home. Sound good?” Frisk nods vigorously, bouncing up and down. I chuckle and lead the way out of the shop. I walk us across the road and over to my sad-looking little shop. Made of red brick and brown wood, it’s small and cozy-looking. “Here’s the fun part, kiddo,” I start, catching Frisk’s attention. “The key is hidden underneath a rock somewhere outside here. I’m gonna need your help to find it.”

An adorable look of determination crosses their tiny face and they nod sharply before setting off on the hunt. No stone is left unturned until the store key is dropped proudly into my palm. I smile and ruffle the kid’s brown hair before stepping forward to unlock the door. Frisk rushes in first, feet pattering excitedly on the beautiful dark walnut hardwood flooring. Yeah, definitely won’t be changing that. I could forego wooden panelling on the walls here so it doesn’t seem like too much. Maybe stone patterns instead? Or I could bring the outside in and use faded red bricks. Hm, I’ll think on that. There’s enough space for about three loveseats or two couches, an armchair or two, several poufs and ottomans, and a handful of coffee tables, of course. Along the back wall with just enough space to stand behind is a serving counter. The counter itself needs to go, because that’s where I’ll be putting the display case/bar, but I might keep one section of it for my register. The walls are a clinical white, which will have to go. Behind the counter is a set of swinging doors which must lead to the kitchen, so I walk around the free-floating surface and push through them. Yep, the kitchen is tiny, but whoever built it took advantage of every single bit of space. There are surfaces galore, with empty gaps clearly meant to house cooking equipment. While I’m not a fan of the stainless steel tables and countertops, I don’t really have the budget to replace them. Besides, stainless steel is easy to maintain and it’s not going to be visible to the customers, so keeping aesthetic isn’t exactly at the top of my budget list.

The door opens again behind me and I turn to smile at Frisk. “Whatcha think, kiddo?” I ask. “Pretty cool, huh?” They nod, making me laugh. “Just wait until the other room is painted and decorated.” At my mention of paint, Frisk’s eyes light up in glee, and an idea strikes me. “Say Frisk, that room is pretty big for just little ol’ me to paint,” I start, squatting down to be eye-level with the kid. “What do you say you get a few of your friends together and help me on Thursday, after school?”

The grin on Frisk’s face is big enough to stretch from ear to ear, and their little hands are signing at a speed that’s a little difficult to follow, but I manage to get the gist: it would be really fun and they can’t wait for their friends to meet me.

“I can’t wait to meet your friends!” I exclaim, poking the kid in the stomach. “But make sure you all get permission from your parents, okay? I don’t want any panicked phone calls to the police about missing children.” Frisk nods, but before I can say anything, I hear a knock on the front door. I give Frisk my phone and unlock it. “Do me a favor and go sit in the other room, okay?” Frisk takes the device and disappears through the swinging door. I follow them out, watching them out of the corner of my eye as they hunker down in a corner, and then hurry to let the delivery guys in. “Sorry,” I apologize.

The guy waves me off. “Not a problem,” he says. “I’ve got an order for an industrial baker’s oven and a refrigerator for Miss Lillia Hanlon.”

“That’s me,” I confirm, taking the offered clipboard and pen, signing where needed. “The kitchen is behind the counter. There are two empty spaces for both pieces that should fit just fine. Put them wherever, I don’t really have a preference.” The kitchen is small enough that it won’t make much of a difference where the oven is. Back in the other store, I designed the kitchen setup to make baking easier with both the oven and the fridge fairly close. The man, David, according to his nametag, nods and recollects the clipboard.

“We’ll be right in, then,” he tells me. “Shouldn’t take more than half an hour to set everything up.” He walks back over to the truck, drops the clipboard through the open window, and joins another guy at the back of the truck. I hold the glass door open as they wheel each piece of equipment inside and through to the kitchen. I don’t bother following them back. It’s just too cramped in there at the moment, and they know what they’re doing. True to their word, it doesn’t take very long for them to finish. I thank them and they’re off.

“Okay, Frisk, let’s get you back home.” The kid hops up and bounces over, handing my phone back. I put it in my pocket and shoo them outside, locking the shop door behind me. The key joins my phone in my pocket and I return Frisk to my shoulders so I can get us there faster.

By the time I get back home, Tansy is already back from the grocery store. She’s waiting in the living room to ambush me, no surprise there. She looks tired and a little dishevelled, but is still glowing with excitement. She tells me all about the different kids she met, all of the teachers at the school, and how much fun she had.

“I love them all so much,” Tansy gushes. “I just want to take them all home! Ooh, Lillia, can we get a puppy? _Please?_ ”

I give her an unimpressed look. “Tans, you just adopted at least twenty small children in one day,” I tell her, deadpan. “We’re not getting a puppy.”

Tansy pouts at me, but drops it. “Oh, one of my coworkers, Dr. Alphys, the science and mathematics teacher, invited us to dinner with her, her girlfriend, and a few other monsters Thursday evening.” Of course it is. This happens quite frequently, actually. I plan something, and then Tansy plans something on the same day. Luckily, I wasn’t planning on keeping the kids for more than a couple of hours at most, which will still give me plenty of time to get back home, change, and then go to this dinner.

So I nod. “Sounds good, Tansy.”

* * *

By the time Thursday morning rolls around, I’ve been reliably informed that my coffee machines will be arriving this afternoon for installation. It’s around the time the kids and I will be painting, but that’s just fine. I’ll just show the guy where I want each machine and let him have at it while I watch the kids. I’ve also taken the time to start cleaning up the store itself. Of course, I started by taking a sledgehammer (borrowed from Asgore, the friendly monster who owns the flower shop on our street) to the counter. It was fun until I realized that I needed to clean up the debris afterwards, but it was still worth it. I also had to drive over to the next town to get some paint, supplies, and plastic sheeting to cover the floor in. I don’t suspect that we’ll actually get the painting done today, but that’s fine. 

Tansy is already gone by the time I roll out of bed and have some cereal for breakfast. I don’t bother to shower, figuring I can do that before dinner, because I know how messy painting is with adults—and now I’m going to paint with small children. I change into a pair of black leggings with strips of a mesh-like material cutting diagonally from the thigh down to the ankle. I find one of my painting shirts from opening the first store—a lapis blue T-shirt made from a super soft material. It’s already stained and flecked with beige paint, so I pull that on. I twist my hair into a simple French braid, pushing my fringe out of my eye, and decide on just using eye makeup today. Eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner, and then I’m good to go. I gather up my bluetooth speaker, shoving it into my purse, and set off for my shop. I know I have a fair amount of time before school is out, but I want to get stuff set up and ready to go so we can get right into it.

Once inside the shop, I prop open the door and set to work. Using the roll of masking tape I’d put in my purse the night before, I walk back into the kitchen and over to the surface I’d chosen for my coffee machines. It’s just inside the door to the right with some cabinets above and shelving below for supply storage. Most coffee shops have their machines just behind the counter, still visible to the customers. I don’t like that. It ruins the illusion of sitting in someone’s house. Yeah, it’s a little difficult when it comes to serving people (unless you’re me, who can enchant stuff) but aesthetic is everything. It’s part of the charm. Using the tape, I mark out where I want each machine. This town is small enough that I shouldn’t have to hire anyone to help me, especially not within the first few months. When I’m finished with that task, I set the roll of tape aside and move back out into the main room. Without the counter, it’s much easier to spread out the plastic sheeting over the floor. This way, when the paint gets splattered or spilled (and believe me, it will) it won’t ruin the beautiful floors. 

I neatly arrange the cans of beige paint, the handful of paintbrushes and rollers, and paint trays, then try to find a safe place for my speaker. Figuring if it gets messed up from paint, it’s no big deal. I’ll just buy another one if it doesn’t work after. Over the course of the past two days, I’ve gotten to meet with the parents of the kids Frisk is bringing with them today. I don’t blame them for wanting to get to know me before trusting me with their child—if I had a kid, I’d probably be the same way, spellcaster tradition be damned. Once they met me though and I cleared up exactly what we’d be doing today, they seemed happier and less distrustful. The kids will walk over here after school, which ends at three, and they’ll stay until five, at which time they’ll walk home. At some point in time during this, the guy with my coffee machines will be out and be installing them while we paint. I’d offered to walk the kids home, but each parent insisted they’d be fine. After my equipment is installed, I’ll head back home and get ready for this dinner. According to Tansy, she’s met them all at some point and thinks they’re awesome. Then again, Tansy can be a giant marshmallow when it comes to new people. Not saying she’s wrong, but sometimes she just doesn’t look past the surface.

The delivery guy comes ten minutes before three. He smells strongly of cigarette smoke, and when I offer my hand for him to shake, I have to keep the look of disgust off my face when he spits his chewing tobacco out on the sidewalk. “The name’s Jeremy Wilde,” he says gruffly, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but standing outside my shop, talking to me. “‘M ‘ere ta hook up yer machines.” And clearly he hasn’t learned the same English as everyone else in this country.

I force a polite business smile onto my face. “Of course,” I reply tightly. “My name is Lillia Hanlon. The kitchen is straight on through, and I’ve marked where I want each machine to go.” Mr. Wilde nods, and I don’t miss the eye roll as he turns to start unloading the truck. I’d prefer him to use the back entrance, but there’s no accessibility for vehicles back there. My phone rings, and with an annoyed glance at the loud racket this man is making as he unloads the machinery, I walk around to the back of the building to answer it. “Hello?”

There’s an indignant huff on the other end. “ _Is that really how you greet your favorite designer?_ ”

I chuckle. “Hey, J.D.” J.D. is one of my other friends from college. I met him through Tansy, but that’s not much of a surprise. He’s the one I went to with my idea for the display case that doubles as a bar with working taps and hoses. “How’ve you been? How’s your fiance doing?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “ _Steph’s great,_ ” J.D. replies. “ _Going a little crazy planning our wedding. Speaking of which, you and Tansy had better be there, you hear, Lillia?_ ”

“Okay, okay!” I laugh. “We’ll be there, chill your butt. I know that’s not the only reason you called, Sparky, so spill it.” J.D. laughs at the old nickname. He earned it after somehow managing to short out the electricity in our dorm building trying to make one of his crazy inventions.

“ _And here I thought that old thing died. I’m calling because I have your piece ready. I can have it out for you tomorrow morning, since you live closer to me now._ ”

I smile at that. “Sounds good to me, J.D. I’ll see you then. Just a heads up that Tansy will be at work—oh, shit, I don’t know if she told you why we moved.” J.D. makes a noise that I can’t quite decipher, so I go ahead and tell him anyway. “She got a job at the school here as an art teacher.”

“ _Oh my God, that’s fantastic! I’ll have to call her at some point and congratulate her._ ” He and I talk a little bit longer, but as the conversation continues, another sound filters into my ears, echoing around from the front of the building. It sounds like… shouting? 

“Hey, J.D., I gotta go,” I say, distracted, as worry pierces my gut. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We’ll catch up then. Hell, if you can swing it with Stephanie, maybe you can stay for lunch.”

My friend notices the change in my voice. “ _Everything okay, Lillia?_ ” I hum an affirmative and hang up, pushing the phone into my pocket and hurrying around the building. When I turn the corner, what I see makes my blood run cold. Mr. Wilde is standing outside of the store, screaming profanities at Frisk and their friends. Little Frisk is bravely stood in front of the three monster children, little face set into a scowl, arms stretched out to either side protectively.

“Get outta ‘ere, filthy _beasts_!” Mr. Wilde snarls, taking a threatening step towards the children. “I don’ deal with fuckin’ monsters, so beat it!”

I set my jaw against the anger that softly bubbles up inside of me, schooling my face into one of professional sternness. “Mr. Wilde,” I call, striding forward, easily falling into my staff-patented _boss stride._ “You’re dismissed. Kindly leave my purchase and go.”

Mr. Wilde whirls around at my voice, but unfortunately, doesn’t seem too intimidated. “Don’ gimme yer shit,” he grumbles at me. “Bunch ‘o monster-spawn need ta learn early they don’ belong ‘ere.” The words dig into my skin, having heard them aimed at me many times.

But I can’t lose my cool. If I do, it’s like giving this horrible human being exactly what he wants. Besides, it’s unprofessional, and I don’t want my reaction to come back and cause problems when I call to complain to his company. So I stop a few feet away, hands on my hips, and tip my chin up. “I am paying you to install coffee equipment,” I start, voice calm and clipped. “Not to terrorize innocent children.” I turn my head slightly to look at Frisk, who has relaxed their arms, but still looks tense. Their friends look scared, cowering behind them. “Frisk, you and your friends go on inside. I’ll be there shortly.” I watch as Frisk latches onto Quentin’s arm, and all four of them run inside, the door closing behind them. At this point, I notice that Mr. Wilde has not budged and level the Look at him. “I believe I dismissed you.”

Mr. Wilde sneers. “Hoyty _bitch_ ,” he snarls, taking a threatening step towards me. I don’t budge, knowing he certainly won’t do anything in broad daylight. “Ya need me ta hook up yer shit, so rightly fuck off!”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Mr. Wilde, I have worked in coffee shops for the past eight years and owned my own for another on top of that,” I inform him icily. “If you think that I cannot hook up an _espresso machine_ properly, then you are sorely mistaken and severely out of line. I will tell you once more before calling the police and having you forcibly removed: _get off my property._ ” The man lets out an angry growl and spits at me, the glob landing close to my shoe, before storming over to his truck and climbing in. He takes off, disappearing around the corner, and I let myself deflate.

Well, shit. There went my only chance of getting to this dinner tonight. Tansy is gonna be pissed.

Scrubbing my hand over my face tiredly, I pull out my phone and call her. “Hey, Tans, I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight,” I tell her as soon as she picks up. “I have to hook up my coffee stuff.”

“ _Uh, okay? I thought the delivery guy was supposed to do that._ ” There’s a pause, and then Tansy gives me an exasperated sigh. “ _Lillia, did you fire the help? We’ve talked about this!_ ”

Despite myself, her response makes me smile slightly. “Well, when the help turns out to be a racist asshole who takes pride in bullying small children, I have every right to fire the help,” I inform her.

There’s a long pause, and then a quiet, “ _Oh. Well, I’ll just tell Alphys and the others that something came up then. Damn, I was really excited for you to meet them._ ”

I wince, guilt tugging at my brain. “I’m sorry, Tansy,” I tell her, and mean every word. “Maybe we can try lunch tomorrow?”

“ _Fine, but you’re_ going _to be there, Lillia Hanlon,_ ” Tansy orders, voice turning sharp. This time, a full-blown smile overtakes my face. “ _QC’s at twelve sharp, understood?_ ”

“You got it, boss,” I chuckle. “See you at some point.” We say our goodbyes and I hang up, pocketing my phone. Now to deal with the poor kids. I recognize them from seeing them around town, learned their names from their parents. Snowy is a little bird-type monster, with white feathers and a snowflake design on his forehead. M.K. is a little lizard monster without arms, poor guy, but his mom insists he can use his tail. And of course, there’s Quentin, Quincy’s son. They’re all probably terrified right now and I can’t stand that thought.

My eyes land on the decorative patch of grass lining the sidewalk, and with a faint teal glow, bright, colorful flowers sprout up and bloom in a matter of seconds. I bend down and begin picking them, using my magic to subtly bind them into four flower crowns, and then walk into the store. The kids are kind of moping about.

“Hey, no frowny faces!” I exclaim with a smile. “You can’t wear flowers with frowns!” They perk up and eagerly take the offered flower crowns. Frisk helps Snowy put his on, and I drop M.K.’s on top of his head.

“Yo, thanks, Miss Lillia!” He grins at me. “These are awesome!” 

I chuckle, moving over to the paint. “Grab a paintbrush, everyone,” I instruct. The kids rush forward, crowding around until they all back away with one. I open one of the cans and pour some out into a couple of trays. “All right, pick a wall and let’s get painting!” They cheer and rush off. Smiling at the adorable sight, I connect my phone to my speaker and start playing a 70’s playlist. An upbeat tune spills out of the device, and I smile as I grab my own paintbrush.

Snowy and Frisk are competing to see who can paint the most the fastest. M.K, is stood with his back to the wall, bouncing up and down to the beat, a wide grin on his face. His paintbrush is curled in his tail, and even though he’s not getting much done in terms of painting, he looks like he’s enjoying himself. Little Quentin is stood in the center of the room, holding his paintbrush and looking a little lost. Quincy had said that he’s a little on the shy side, but that won’t do. Not here. I jog over to him, lift him up, and spin him in a circle before balancing his tiny feet on top of my own.

“Come on, dance with me!” I spin us around, holding his hands around our paintbrushes. Quentin squeals in delight, smile lighting up his fluffy little face, his ears perking up. Much better. “Dancing in the moonlight, everybody real and warm and right,” I sing along, making funny little hops and big, exaggerated steps just to make Quentin cheer. “It’s such a fine and natural sight! Everybody dancing in the moonlight!”

I can still hear the the song echoing around the space even now, hours after the kids have gone home and my phone died. No, we didn’t get much painting done, but we had fun. I heave a sigh, leaning back from the last of the machines now properly installed and ready to run. It’s eleven-thirty now, the moon and stars high in the sky. I’m mentally exhausted. Grumbling under my breath about stupid racists, I haul myself to my feet and start collecting my stuff. I make sure I have my speaker and phone, make sure the paint is sealed up, and then leave the shop, closing and locking the door behind me.

Upon exiting the mud room, I’m greeted by the sight of Tansy passed out on the loveseat. The girl must have tried to wait up for me. Smiling fondly, I walk over and carefully lift her into my arms, carry her upstairs, and tuck her into her own bed.

* * *

The next morning comes way too fast, but I still manage to drag myself out of bed with enough time to take a shower and call Mr. Wilde’s company to leave a complaint. I spend an hour and a half being shuffled around from person to person until I finally demand to speak to a supervisor, manager, or someone who actually has the ability to do something. It’s at that point I’m told that there isn’t one available at the moment, but as soon as one was, they’d call me back immediately. I glance at the clock, knowing J.D. will be arriving any minute now, and begrudgingly accept the offer. I grab my purse and keys, slipping the lanyard around my neck, and head downstairs.

There’s a note stuck to the front door from Tansy, reminding me about lunch today. Rolling my eyes fondly, I tuck the note into my pocket and begin the now-familiar walk. J.D. is waiting for me when I get there, greeting me with a hug and a playful jab. I help him carry the new display case into the building, shoving the plastic on the floor aside with my foot until we can set it down where I want it. As J.D. sets up the wiring and hoses and such, we talk and catch up with each other. It’s nice talking to him again. 

Still, after he’s done, he has to hurry back to Steph. When I look at the time, I wince, because it’s twelve-thirty. Grimacing, I hurry across the street, barely remembering to lock the door behind me, and push into QC’s Diner. I spot Tansy sitting in one of the corner booths to the left. Sitting with her is a small yellow lizard monster with glasses, a tall fish monster with a long, off-center red ponytail, and two skeletons. One of the skeletons is much taller than the other. I start to walk over, apology on the tip of my tongue, but my phone begins to ring. I take it out to send the call to voicemail, but when I see the number, I know I have to take it. I give Tansy an apologetic look and turn away, walking back outside to stand on the sidewalk.

“Hello?” I answer, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“ _Hello, Miss Hanlon. My name is James Curtland. I apologize for being unable to take your call earlier. What seems to be the problem?_ ” I launch into the story, explaining what had happened yesterday. The exasperated sigh Mr. Curtland gives me says everything I need to know about Mr. Wilde’s work history. “ _I’m very sorry for your experience, Miss. I’m afraid this isn’t the first complaint Jeremy has had in the past couple of months he’s been with us._ ”

Well that makes me feel slightly better. And worse. How many other people has he offended? “I believe everyone is entitled to their opinions, Mr. Curtland, but it is not okay to spew them in such an unprofessional and frankly disgusting manner at children,” I say. “Never mind his behavior towards myself.” I find myself wandering further down the sidewalk, headed for the dead-end of the street when the door to the diner opens and people begin to leave.

“ _I completely agree,_ ” Mr. Curtland says, and it doesn’t come across as if he’s just saying it to appease me. “ _Jeremy will handled accordingly, and once again, my sincerest apologies for your interaction with our company. It seems you have ordered from us in the past and we are honored that you chose to order from us again to further your own business. Because of these events and your loyalty to our brand, I will personally see to it that the shipping, delivery, and installation fees will be removed from your bill. Will you be needing someone to come out and install your order?_ ”

I breathe out a small sigh of relief that I won’t have to fight tooth and nail just to have the right thing done. I could care less about the money at this point. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Curtland, but it won’t be necessary,” I tell him. “I took the time to install them myself last night.”

“ _I see. If there is ever anything you need in terms of your order, do not hesitate to call me at this number and I will take care of it. Have an excellent day, Miss Hanlon._ ”

“You as well, Mr. Curtland.” I hang up with a heavy sigh and turn around, only to yelp and jerk back in shock when I see Tansy standing right behind me, hands on her hips and looking decidedly irritated with me. 

She huffs. “Break is over, Lillia,” she informs me. “We all have to go back to work now.” Her voice loses the irritated intonation and instead morphs into more of a whine. “You promised!”

I wince. “I know, Tans, I’m sorry,” I try to placate her. “And I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Invite them over for dinner tomorrow at seven. I’m cooking, so I have to be there.”

Tansy keeps up her glare for a few seconds longer before letting it drop. “Fine,” she says before hugging me tightly. I return the motion, relieved that I’m not in the doghouse with my friend. Seriously, that place sucks. “I have to get back to the school. I’ll see you tonight, Lil.”

I pull back and smile at her. “Bye, Tans.” She turns around and takes off running, but I don’t let her get more than a few steps before I subtly use my magic to transport her directly. Right. Back to painting.

* * *

I don’t go to the store today. No, I made a promise to Tansy, and I’m going to follow through. I clean up the house and then search through the cupboards. We’d planned on lasagna tonight, but one look at what Tansy bought a couple days ago tells me that she forgot the pasta. Oh well, spaghetti and meatballs will work just as well. Tansy comes home a little after three and settles in at the table to work on next week’s lessons. “How was work?” I ask as I begin prepping the vegetables for the sauce.

“Long, but fun,” Tansy chirps. “Oh, today was amazing. I got permission to take the kids out into the schoolyard and introduce them to sidewalk chalk. Can you believe that monsters have never seen it before? But goodness, they all had so much fun!” I chuckle, scraping the finely-chopped peppers, garlic, and onions into the large pot of tomatoes that have been reducing into a paste for about half an hour now. I replace the lid and turn the heat down to a simmer.

“I’m glad.” I begin preparing a garlic butter wash to make garlic breadsticks. My dough should be done rising by now, so I walk over to that bowl and lift the towel from it. Reaching into the open bag of flour, I dust the counter with a small handful and then tip the dough out of the bowl and onto the surface. I use a sharp knife to carefully cut out the breadsticks, shape them by hand, and then move them onto a couple of baking sheets ready and waiting nearby before covering them again.

Cooking is something that I enjoy, but don’t really have a passion for. It’s fun, but not something I could see myself doing for a living. My uh, years of experience and travelling have given me a fair amount of time to hone my skills in the kitchen. Besides, Tansy struggles to remember that she’s boiling water most times she tries to cook. Many of our saucepans have scald marks on the bottom because of it. Tansy and I work in mostly silence on our respective projects until I decide I need to shower and get dressed for our company.

“Tans, when the timer goes off, take the breadsticks out of the oven, please,” I tell my friend, who looks up and nods. “Let them sit for a couple minutes, then cover the trays with towels to keep them warm until I can take care of them.” Tansy nods again and I hurry upstairs to take care of business. I keep my makeup simple-yet-noticeable, twisting my hair into a pull-through braid and then figuring out what to wear. Hm, styled casual is probably for the best. I find a sleeveless, flowy black top with silver star patterns and pull it on, followed by a pair of nice blue skinny jeans and a pair of black flats. 

When I get back downstairs, there are two baking trays covered by towels. The oven is now cool enough to not burn the breadsticks, so I remove the towels and pop the trays back into the oven to keep them warm. The pasta is done by now, so I strain it and drop a small glob of butter in to keep the pasta from sticking. By this point in time, Tansy has cleared the table of her work and has started to set out plates and utensils. “Shit, Lil, we don’t have enough chairs or space.” I flick my fingers towards the table, hand glowing with white magic swirled with teal. The table elongates, going from square to a rectangle, and duplicates a couple of the chairs to make enough. “Thanks.” I add herbs to the meatball-riddled spaghetti sauce, as well as some salt and pepper, then turn off the stove. It’s a little after seven, so our guests should be here any minute. 

Sure enough, there’s a knock on the door. “Tans?” I ask, focused on dishing up the food.

“I got it,” she replies, footsteps leaving the room. “Hey, guys! Come in, you’re just in time.” I place each dish of food in the center of the table and then move to get the breadsticks.

“HUMAN FRIEND TANSY, WHAT A PLEASURE IT IS TO SEE YOU AGAIN.” The loud, booming quality of the male voice that responds makes me jump slightly, catching my hand on the still hot oven rack and receiving a small burn for my trouble. I hiss slightly, jerking my hand back and inspecting the pale skin. Eh, it’ll be fine. “SANS, REMOVE YOUR SHOES! IT’S ONLY POLITE!”

Tansy’s laugh floats through the air as I carefully transfer the breadsticks from the baking trays to a cloth-lined basket. “It’s fine, Papyrus,” she assures. “Lillia and I wear shoes in the house all the time. But if you want to take them off, you can.” I set the basket on the table and wipe my hands on a towel, glancing around the sparkling clean kitchen. The pot which I’d cooked the sauce in is a little unsightly, but with a quick thought, it’s clean and put away.

Pasting a polite, friendly smile on my face, I move out of the kitchen to greet Tansy’s friends. “Hello. I’m Lillia, Tansy’s housemate.”

Immediately, the taller skeleton I’d seen in QC’s steps forward. He’s wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved red shirt. “HELLO, HUMAN LILLIA!” Ah, so he’s the source of the borderline obnoxious voice earlier. “I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! IT WOULD PLEASE ME GREATLY IF YOU WISH TO BE MY FRIEND LIKE HUMAN FRIEND TANSY. DO YOU WISH TO BE MY FRIEND?” And, honestly, it’s hard to take this guy seriously despite his a little unnerving appearance. His voice is fairly high pitched, almost nasally, which is an odd way to describe someone without a nose.

My smile morphs into something less polite and much happier. “I would like nothing more than to be your friend, Great Papyrus,” I tell him. “In fact, I’m honored that you would grace me with your presence for dinner.” Papyrus the Skeleton stands a little straighter, fussing at his clothes slightly, clearly flustered and pleased by my response. A faint red glow appears on his cheekbones, just underneath his eye sockets. Just behind him, I see Tansy hiding her laughter behind her hand and have to fight to keep from laughing myself.

“IF WE ARE TO BE FRIENDS, I INSIST YOU CALL ME PAPYRUS, HUMAN FRIEND LILLIA,” Papyrus says. Then he whirls around, and I can picture some type of cape or long scarf billowing behind him in the wind. “HUMAN FRIEND TANSY, I DO BELIEVE THIS WILL BE AN EXCELLENT EVENING, EVEN IF I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DID NOT COOK.”

Tansy chuckles. “I’m sure we’ll get together at some point so you can cook for us, Papyrus,” she says. “Anyway, Lillia, this is Dr. Alphys, my coworker.”

Dr. Alphys is the small lizard monster. She’s wearing a nice black dress and looks very nervous. “Y-you can just c-call me Alphys,” she stutters out.

I smile kindly at her. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Alphys,” I reply warmly, trying my best to put her at ease through my words. “Tansy has told me so many wonderful things about you over the past few weeks and I’ve been dying to get to know you for myself.” Then I lean towards her slightly, as if sharing a secret. “I have a weakness for anime, too. I’m sure we can find a few to watch together at a later date.” The woman perks up at that, pushing her glasses up her face as she smiles.

“I-I’d like that very m-much.”

Tansy pulls my attention to the fish monster standing protectively behind Alphys. “This is Undyne, Alphys’s girlfriend.” Undyne has blue skin and fins protruding from the sides of her head. She has one yellow eye, the other covered by a black eyepatch. Her long red hair is kept in an off-center ponytail. She’s wearing a simple black tank top and some jeans, showing off the clearly-defined muscles in her arms.

“So you’re the punk T over here gushes about constantly.” Undyne’s voice is rough, but still distinctly feminine. She doesn’t seem like the type to take any nonsense, but something tells me she’s got a good heart underneath that tough, scaly exterior. “Nice ta meetcha.” She offers her hand and I take it, gripping firmly and pumping it once. 

I give her a smirk. “Watch who you’re calling a punk, brat,” I tease good-naturedly. Undyne laughs loudly at my response before relaxing into an easy grin.

“Man, this one’s just as feisty as you, T,” Undyne tells Tansy, who is positively glowing at this point. I know she’s been worried that I won’t get along with her new friends.

Finally, she introduces me to the last monster—the shorter skeleton. His exposed teeth are upturned into more of a grin than Papyrus’s, which makes me wonder if they can actually change their expressions. He’s wearing a white shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts, a white stripe down each leg. He also has on a lapis blue jacket, hands stuffed casually in his pockets, and—to my intense amusement—a pair of pink house slippers. “This is Sans, Papyrus’s brother.”

Sans the Skeleton offers me a skeletal hand. “hey there,” he greets. Even though he’s definitely shorter than Papyrus, he’s still fairly tall, about my height. I grasp his hand, silently marveling at the strange texture of his fingers and the fact that his hand is somehow radiating warmth. “ _night_ to meet ya, pal.” I pause for a moment, letting his words sink in, glance down at my star-patterned shirt, and then burst out laughing. Sans pulls his hand back, smile just a bit wider, and shoves it into his pocket again.

“SANS!” Papyrus cries, clearly fed up with his brother. “DO NOT BOTHER HUMAN FRIEND LILLIA WITH YOUR TERRIBLE PUNS!”

Sans shrugs. “relax, bro. there’s no reason to go _cosmic_ over it.” My laughter, which had died down a little bit, kicks back up. Tansy is giggling too.

Still grinning, I look at Sans. “I think you and I are going to get along wonderfully,” I tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, sorry for the wait on this one! I was struggling on which direction I wanted this story to go for a little while there.
> 
> Don't be surprised if updates kinda become less frequent. I'm going to try for two updates per week, but no promises.
> 
> This one is pretty long. I probably should have split it up into two separate chapters, but I've made you guys wait long enough to introduce Sans to Lilla, so here you go!


	6. Fine Dining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for dinner, everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All known and recognized characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their rightful creator, Toby Fox.
> 
> I own the plot and any original characters unless otherwise specified.

Dinner is a very interesting affair, to say the least. Since I’m the one who cooked, it’s only fair that I play hostess as well. After introductions, I invite everyone into the kitchen. It’s a bit cramped, that’s for sure, but no one seems to mind. After Papyrus’s excited exclamation over the food (“YOU ENJOY THE CULINARY DELIGHT THAT IS SPAGHETTI AS WELL, HUMAN FRIEND LILLIA? HOW FANTASTIC!”) and playing a small round of musical chairs, everyone is seated somewhat comfortably. At this point in time, I ask what everyone would like to drink. Papyrus immediately requests milk, claiming that he had heard a couple of human children saying that it’s good for bone strength. I don’t correct him, just smile and get the man some milk. Tansy asks for her favorite soda, so I hand her a can of Vanilla Coke. Alphys quietly requests a glass of water, which I grab for her with a smile.

Undyne, however, gives me an evil-looking smirk. “Betcha losers don’t keep the good stuff,” she challenges, making me grin wildly.

“That’s not a bet you wanna make, Undyne,” I warn her, silently daring her to keep going. “Not in this household.” Though I’ve never worked with the stuff, I’ve been told that the monster equivalent to alcohol is very weak in comparison to human stuff. Undyne seems like the type of gal who can handle her monster liquor, but I doubt she’s had much experience with human alcohol.

The fish woman leans forward eagerly. “Is that a challenge, punk?” She all but roars, nearly drowning out Alphys’s tiny protest.

I tip my chin up. “One drink,” I offer. “If you can handle one drink, I’ll pay for anything you order at the new bar that’s gonna open up.” Sure, maybe I don’t mention that the bar is mine. That would be giving away my ace, basically telling her that she needs to back off.

“Deal!” Undyne reaches her hand across the table and I shake it.

Tansy giggles knowingly. “Sorry, Undyne, but my bet’s on Lil,” she says as I move over to our liquor cabinet. It’s filled with a lot of different bottles, seeing as I like to experiment at home, but instead of pulling out just one, I grin to myself as I pull out three: Cinnamon Fire rum, Lucky Oh! Horchata rum, and coffee rum. I find a twelve-ounce glass, drop a few ice cubes into the bottom, and then add a shot of each of the previous liquids to the glass. I put the bottles away when I’m done and move to the fridge, oblivious to the eyes following my every move, and collect a bottle of ginger beer. It’s the only beer that Tansy will drink unmixed. Popping the cap off on the edge of the counter with a practiced move, I top off the rest of the glass with the beer, set the other half of the bottle next to my plate, and then put my wicked concoction on the table in front of Undyne.

“Bottoms up,” I say, feeling a bit like a Disney villain. To her credit—or foolishness—Undyne doesn’t hesitate. She picks up the glass, raises it to her lips, and takes a strong gulp. Almost immediately, her eyes bulge out and she looks as if she wants to spit it out. I’m pretty impressed when she manages to force it down her throat, but quickly puts the glass down. “Oh, sorry,” I cut in, voice light and teasing. “Did I forget to mention that I’m a bartender? Goodness, Tans, your _spaced-out_ tendencies must be rubbing off on me!” Sans chuckles at the space joke and Undyne gives me a glare with no real bite behind it.

“Fair ‘nough, punk,” Undyne mutters after a second. “You win this one. Holy shit that’s strong!” 

I laugh before getting her a glass of water instead, setting my concoction aside to drink a little later. Papyrus starts in on scolding Undyne for her language at the dinner table, and I take the opportunity to turn to Sans, the only one without a drink at this point. Since Papyrus is making it a little difficult to hear, I have to lean pretty close. “What about you, skele-pun?” I ask with a small laugh. “What’ll it be?”

Sans chuckles. “if that’s your best pick-up line, bartender, i’d suggest you get a bit more of a backbone,” he teases. My grin widens. “ya got any ketchup?” The question pulls me up short for a second, but then I shake myself out of it. Why not? A skeleton monster who likes bad puns and drinking ketchup.

“You need a glass for that, Bones, or will the bottle do ya?” I’ve slipped into full bartender mode, into the easy-going, kinda-flirty persona I adapt whilst serving customers.

“bottle’s fine,” Sans responds. I nod and walk back over to the fridge. I’m so focused on my task that I miss the slight flush of blue crossing the skeleton’s face, nor the way his strange eyelights follow my movements. I find the barely-used bottle of ketchup shoved in the back, pull it out, and set it down next to Sans.

Papyrus, finally done laying into Undyne, makes a disgusted noise. “SANS!” He bellows. Nah, nevermind—this is just his inside voice. “WHY MUST YOU EMBARRASS ME BY DRINKING SUCH A DISGUSTING SUBSTANCE? YOU WILL RUIN HUMAN FRIEND LILLIA AND HUMAN FRIEND TANSY’S APPETITES!” I snicker, sitting down in the only open seat, which just happens to be sandwiched between Tansy and Sans. I watch as Sans pops open the plastic lid, raises the opening of the bottle to his mouth, and takes a big gulp. Well, whatever floats his boat, I guess.

“Don’t worry about me, Papyrus,” I say with a gentle smile. “I’ve seen so much worse. Anyway, dig in, everyone, before it gets cold.” Undyne eagerly lunges for the food, only for Alphys to remind her to leave some for the rest of us. I wait until everyone else has filled their plate before taking a small portion of pasta for myself, spooning on some sauce, and sprinkling on some cheese. After that, the chatter relaxes into something more casual as Tansy switches us onto the topic of jobs. I know that Alphys is a teacher like Tansy, but I learn that Undyne is currently in training to become a police officer. Papyrus does little odd jobs around town, everything from mowing lawns to volunteering in the hospital, which I tell him is pretty cool. The red-clad skeleton lets out an adorable ‘nyeh heh heh’ that makes my heart melt, and then Sans chimes in with a comment about his bro being the coolest around. After that little statement, I realize that Sans hasn’t said where he works.

Curious, my eyes turn to the skeleton slumped casually beside me. He shrugs again, a gesture that seems very normal for him. “i own the grocery store,” he says after some prompting.

At that, I perk up. “Wait, that place is _yours?_ Stars, I went there the day we moved in and couldn’t find any workers to cash me out! Did you get the note and the money I left? I didn’t just want to walk out without paying, but then I couldn’t help but notice your pricing.”

A low chuckle emerges from somewhere within Sans’s chest cavity. “s’alright, pal,” he says, cutting off my rambling. “i probably stepped out for a break and forgot to lock the door. i remember that note, now that i think about it, and the money. and thanks for helpin’ me out with that whole thing. don’t really know how humans do stuff like that up here.” I blink for a moment, because I think that sentence is honestly the most I’ve ever heard Sans speak. His voice is a deep baritone, soothing to listen to.

I try to ignore the warmth starting in my cheeks as I say, “No problem. As a business owner myself, I know that learning how to price products can be a bit difficult. If you want, I could swing by sometime and help you re-price everything.”

“THAT IS VERY NICE OF YOU, HUMAN FRIEND LILLIA,” Papyrus cuts in, loud voice making me jump slightly and jolting me out of my little trance. I lean around Sans to look at his taller brother. I’m still not sure which one is older, but oh well. It’ll probably come up at some point tonight. “BUT DO NOT GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO ASSIST MY LAZY BROTHER.”

I smile. “It’s really not a big deal, Papyrus,” I assure him. “Anyway, I guess it’s my turn. I’m going to be opening up a coffee shop and bar called Twisted here in the next few months. I have a place just like it back in the city where Tansy and I used to live, and I thought it’d be a great idea to open one here, too.”

I’m met with several blank stares. “F-forgive me for a-asking, Lillia,” Alphys speaks up after a moment. “But w-what is c-coffee?” Right, coffee isn’t something they had in the Underground. The few monsters that came in back in the city told me as much, but grew to love the beverage. I also noticed that it isn’t served at QC’s Diner, which means there’s a very large market opening.

“Alphys, you never have to apologize for asking me questions, okay?” I tell her gently. “Coffee is a beverage that humans enjoy because of its ability to wake someone up fairly quickly. Most people drink it before work so they can be alert. Tell you what, when my store opens, you all get a free cup on the house as a sample.”

“That’s not fair,” Tansy pouts, playfully. “I can’t live without the stuff and I haven’t had it in _weeks!_ Where’s my coffee, Lil?”

I snort without thinking, then flush a little in embarrassment in having made such an unpleasant sound, but push through it. If you don’t acknowledge something you’ve done, then others are less likely to take notice. Or at the very least less likely to call you out on it. “That’s because there isn’t any in this town, Tans,” I deadpan. “You’ll just have to wait until I start getting my shipments.” But _ugh,_ I’m nowhere near that phase yet. I haven’t decided on how to finish the inside without making it look too corporate. I don’t want to add wood panelling to the walls because it’ll make the space seem awkward with the hardwood floors. Stone and brick just seems too ‘store’ for Twisted’s aesthetic. I laugh with everyone else as Tansy moans in mock torture, flopping dramatically onto the table and narrowly missing her plate.

After everyone finishes eating, Tansy leads them into the living room, but I stay behind to clean up. I have a thing about food or dirty dishes that have been sitting out—the longer they sit out, the more disgusting they seem to me. In college, Tansy and the two others we shared our dorm with would often leave their dishes piled in the small sink, making it impossible to do anything in our tiny kitchenette. After the first month, when we were all sniping at each other, Tansy made us sit down and talk everything out. We all set two rules down during that meeting, about things that severely bothered us. One of mine was about dishes not getting washed after being used. Even now, Tansy makes sure to wash any dishes she uses once she’s done with them.

There isn’t any food left over—Undyne and Papyrus had gone back for seconds, and then thirds—but that makes my life a little easier. Tansy doesn’t like eating leftovers, so it would have been up to me. While I like spaghetti, I certainly don’t want to eat it every day for the next week. I begin by running some soapy water into the sink, and while that is filling, I pile up plates. Utensils are set on top of that and I gather up all of the drink glasses. When I come across the ketchup bottle, I hesitate. Should I keep it? Throw it away? I mean, Sans _was_ drinking straight out of it. Not sure if being in a skeleton’s mouth makes it unsanitary or not. Chewing on my lip, I walk over to the sink to turn off the tap, and then put the bottle back into the fridge. It’s not like Tansy and I use the stuff much, and I figure that if Tansy gets her way, these guys will be coming around more frequently. I take a sip of the drink I’d made for Undyne, relishing in the burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat, settling like a warm weight in my stomach. The Dos Aquis isn’t something I serve typically, because of its potency, but _damn_ does it taste good. I may not drink coffee, but alcohol when made and mixed right is excellent. I pick up the stack of plates and utensils and carry it all over to the sink, where I begin rinsing off the worst of the mess before putting them into the soapy water.

“did ya really mean what you said earlier?” I jump and spin around, only to see Sans sitting at the table like he’s been there the whole time—despite the fact that he most certainly was not just a few seconds ago. Seeing my expression, he chuckles sheepishly. “sorry. thought you heard me come in.”

I let out a sharp breath and give him a relieved grin. “Well, Mr. Mouse, I didn’t. I thought skeletons were supposed to clatter around,” I tease, turning back to my dishes. Sans laughs at that. “And I said a lot of things earlier, so you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“about helpin’ me with my store,” Sans replies. “you seem to know what you’re talking about. everything’s so different up here.”

I start washing, plunging my hands into the scalding water without really feeling the burn. “Well, I would hope I know what I’m doing,” I tell him dryly. “I only paid out the ass to learn how to do it. Ugh, college. There’s a crooked system if I ever saw one. Everything you could ever want is right there, on the internet, but people pay money to go to a big old building and sit in a hall where the professor lectures you on stuff so badly that you don’t understand anything and then turn to the internet to learn it.” It’s at this point in time that I realize I’m rambling and laugh a little sheepishly. “Sorry about that. But yeah, my major in college was business management and I’m constantly coming up with new baked goods to sell at the coffee shop, so I’m fairly decent at pricing items—and I’ll totally help you. Just give me a day and I’ll swing by.”

There’s a long silence. Wondering if Sans has wandered out in the middle of my rant, I glance over my shoulder, only to catch him staring intently at me. When he notices my gaze, he kind of straightens up, looking for all the world like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “that’s real nice of you, pal,” he blurts out. “i mean, we just met today and all, and you’re already offering to help a practical stranger.”

_And that’s a clever ruse you’ve got going there, Bones._

I don’t say it aloud. Just like I never pointed out any of the distrustful looks he’d given me, or the way he uses his puns like armor. Sans is what Tansy would call ‘sad-pretending-at-happy.’ He hides it well, I’ll give him that much, but I’ve had centuries to learn how to read people. I won’t say anything—at least, not yet—because I’ve found that reading people like an open book tends to make them uncomfortable and stand-offish, and I just met the guy today.

I wave a soapy hand at him dismissively. “Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet,” I inform him with a confident smile. “Besides, you’re not a stranger. You’re Sans the Skeleton, brother of the Great Papyrus. You own a grocery store. You like terrible puns and good old-fashioned _rib_ bing.” Sans laughs at that. “You drink ketchup and you’re a great guy. Anyone with eyes can see that.” The plates and utensils are completely clean now, sat on the drying rack for the time being, and I turn to collect the glasses from the table. I can only grab about half, so I carry them over to the sink. When I turn back to collect the rest, Sans is standing there, holding them out to me. I thank him.

“don’t mention it, pal,” he tells me, wandering over to sit back down at the table. “but all that stuff doesn’t mean i’m a great guy. maybe i’m just showing you what i want you to see.”

I snort a little at that. “No offense, Sans, but you’re far too relaxed to be pulling that kind of nonsense. I saw the way you look at your brother when you think no one’s looking. The way you coax Alphys out of her shell. The way Undyne respects you. And Tansy giggles like a little schoolgirl at each and every one of your jokes. Stars, I haven’t heard that girl laugh so much in a month and a half. When people have good intentions, you can just _tell._ And others can tell, too, because they instantly feel comfortable with you. People with bad intentions…” The light, carefree tone of my voice drops away, replaced instead with something close to melancholy and pain. “... they have to work to make people feel comfortable.”

“... you okay there, lillia?” I realize that I’ve stopped washing the glasses, instead staring out of the window into the night as I clench the rag in my fist. Shaking my head, I loosen my grip on the piece of cloth and go back to scrubbing.

“I’m fine,” I say quietly. “Sorry for getting all serious on you, Sans. Anyway, maybe I don’t know that much about you, but I don’t have to in order to figure out that you, Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys are good people.”

Sans chuckles. “people... been awhile since someone called us that.”

I frown, anger sparking in my chest. “Racist assholes,” I mutter, setting the last glass aside. I wring out the rag, drape it over the faucet, and begin draining the sink. With that going, I turn around to look Sans directly in the eye sockets. Not for the first time, I find the strange, free-floating dots of light in the otherwise dark spaces to be a bit strange and fascinating. I want to ask if they work as his eyes, but recognize that the question is a little too personal for the first meeting. “Look, when it comes to humans, it all boils down to fear. Things that differ from the norm are unknown. The unknown causes fear, which in turn causes humans to act out in rage and hatred. I can’t stop them. I can only hope that eventually, they’ll see that you all are just people trying to live their own lives. Still, just know that Tansy and I will always welcome you guys here and, when I open my store, over there, too. I don’t discriminate. In fact—” I scramble for something to write on, snatching a pen from Tansy’s school bag. I end up grabbing a napkin and hunch down over the counter, scribbling down my phone number. When I’m done, I drop the pen back in the bag and hand the napkin to Sans. “—here’s my number. Give it to Papyrus, too. Even if you just wanna talk about some horrible customer, feel free to call.” I try to make him understand from my vocal tone alone that I really do mean _anything._

Skeletal fingers slowly reach out before gently taking hold of the offered item. “y’know,” Sans says after a moment, still looking at the napkin in his hand. “you’re a special kind of person, lillia. when tansy told us that you had to deal with a work emergency a couple of days ago, i didn’t think anythin’ of it. then when you bailed on lunch, i thought maybe you had a thing against monsters. but you’ve gone and genuinely surprised me, pal.”

I grimace slightly, hand automatically rising to rub the back of my neck. “I’m really sorry about the last couple of days,” I tell him, mind wandering back to the issues Jeremy Wilde had caused. “Believe me, I would’ve _loved_ to be at those meals instead of what I was doing.”

Sans tips his skull to the side, and I’m forced to notice that he is very much his own creature. From the wide perma-grin that stretches unnaturally across the bone to the shape of his skull, and even down to the thickness of the bones of his hands, Sans is not a human skeleton. The anatomy is close enough, I suppose, but with enough subtle differences to set him apart from the skeletons that sit inside science classrooms. And… it doesn’t bother me, like it might some. No, I’m simply even more curious than before. I have seen many strange things over the course of my lifetimes, but Sans and his brother are perhaps the most strange and the most special. I even find the fact that he and Papyrus don’t open their mouths to speak to be fascinating. Their voices just kind of echo out of their chest cavity, bubbling up into the air. I have a feeling, though, that if I asked Sans, his only response would be _magic, pal_.

“frisk told us that you’d invited them and some of their friends over to your new place,” Sans says, recapturing the majority of my brain from where it’d been burrowing down a rabbit hole. I smile at that, but it’s a little forced, considering what happened. “and how you fired the guy who started yellin’ at ‘em. takes some _guts_ to do that, considering how small you are.”

I smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Well, then it would make sense,” I reply flippantly. “I mean, if _I’m_ small, you’re miniature. Maybe if you were my height, you’d grow more of a _spine._ ” I’m about five-foot-five, a fairly average height. Sans looks like he’s about five-foot, while Papyrus, in comparison, is pushing at least seven feet tall.

Sans chuckles at my teasing jab, seemingly unbothered, and pushes himself to stand. I watch him stuff the napkin with my number on it into the pocket of his jacket. “whaddya say we join the others, pal?”

Before I can respond, Tansy yells, “Lillia! They don’t know what _Uno_ is! We _have_ to fix this!” I snicker, reaching up into our board/card game cabinet and finding the right deck of cards.

“C’mon, Bones,” I say when I turn around. “Looks like we’re gonna teach you guys how to play some games.” I hook my elbow around his and begin pulling him out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the others are waiting.

* * *

Later that night, as I’m changing into some sleepclothes, my phone dings. Curious, I finish pulling the oversized T-shirt over my head and pad over to my nightstand. I pick the little device up, unlock it, and see a text message from an unknown number.

_so, you’re a bartender. what did the grape say when it got crushed?_

There’s no name or anything, but I already know who it is. The little ham bone of a skeleton has, annoyingly enough, managed to either turn the feature off, or painstakingly fixed each auto-capitalization as he typed out the beginning of another pun. Grinning, I hurry to pull on my shorts that I like to sleep in and flop on the bed so I can reply. _What did the grape say?_

_nothing. it just let out a little wine._ The response is immediate, as if he’d been sitting around and waiting for me to text back. I laugh quietly, being sure to keep it down because I know Tansy is already asleep. Poor girl comes home drained most afternoons and then works on lesson plans or grading projects for hours after that. She’s having fun, though—and how could she not? This has literally been her dream for six years now. Ooh, and thinking of jobs, I now have the perfect response.

_Nice one, Sans. I would tell an unemployment joke, but none of them work._

Snickering to myself, I roll over onto my back and somehow manage to get underneath the covers, dropping my phone on my chest so I can reach out and turn off the lamp on my nightstand, plunging my room into darkness. Wiggling around a bit, I manage to get comfortable and my phone dings again.

_good one, but beer won't make you smart, budweiser._

I snort, fingers already typing. _Did you have to look up beer companies just to make that one work?_ While I wait for his response, I go ahead and save his number to my contacts under _Bones_. At least this way he’s closer to the top of the list.

_… maybe._ I chuckle and begin typing out a response.

And that pattern doesn’t stop for _hours._ Before I know it, time has gone from eleven at night to one in the morning, and here I am, lying in bed and having a pun war with Sans the Skeleton. When a yawn breaks its way past my teeth, I’m forced to admit that I need to sleep. Hell, so does he, now that I think about it. He actually has a job open to the public.

_Hey, Bones, while I hate to cut this short, we should really get some sleep. You know, the thing you do when you close your eyes and don’t open them again til the sunlight shines?_

Sans’s response takes a little longer this time, and I’ve come to associate this with a particularly good pun. Bracing myself, I turn onto my side, eyes feeling heavy. _ya don’t have to explain it to me, pal. sleeping comes so naturally to me i could do it with my eyes closed._ I chuckle, but before I can start typing a response, another message from him pops up. _night, pal._

_Good night, Sans._

I reach out and blindly feel around until I find my charging cord. It takes a bit of fumbling, but I eventually get my phone plugged in and put it down on the nightstand. Exhaustion finally tugs my eyelids closed, and I slip into the darkness that is sleeping.

* * *

_“BURN HER!” The cry is loud enough for all to hear, and the others begin taking up the chant. I am dragged forward, bare feet stumbling over the cobble of the road, bloodied and bruised. The ropes tied about my wrists and forearms are rough and the fibers dig into my skin. I’ve lost feeling in my fingers by this point in time._

_“Keep moving, witch!” The man at the other end of my rope snarls at me, yanking hard enough to send me sprawling forward. I land in a heap, my chin banging painfully into the stone, and I watch red drip down in front of me. “Get up!” I force my battered limbs to move, slowly pushing myself back to my feet and hobbling forward again. I don’t say anything. I don’t plead for my life or cry or scream. I just walk forward as best I can, eyes on the pyre set up in the center of the village, where I am to be killed._

_I am forced to the wooden pole set up in the middle of the fuel, my back pressed harshly against it, and am bound to it so tight that it makes it difficult to breathe. Stones are thrown. One strikes my arm, another my chest, but I bite down the cries of pain. I just stare out over their heads, watching the sun slowly sink down below the horizon, as if guiding me to this end. Someone carries forth a torch and thrusts it into the kindling at my feet without hesitation. The flames immediately spring to life, eating up the dry fuel with gusto. The heat is blisteringly hot and intense, engulfing me and taking away what little breath I have. The smoke comes next, choking me and burning my eyes. After that, the flames lick up my skin, burning and melting and slowly consuming me._

* * *

I jerk awake, gasping and coughing the nonexistent smoke from my lungs. My face is wet with tears and I kick the blankets away from me, feeling smothered. It’s still too hot and I blindly lunge off the edge of the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. Breathing heavily, I claw my way over to the window and shove it open, gasping and pulling in the cool night air. It feels amazing against my sweat-soaked skin and I lean further into it, half-hanging out of my window. The moon is bearing down on me with a baleful, pale gaze, as if reminding me of what I can’t have. I sneer up at it before climbing out of my window, landing solidly and safely despite the height. All it takes is a passing thought and then I’m no longer in my backyard—I am now standing in the park down the street. A little ways behind me is some playground equipment, but the section I’m standing in is a wide open field.

The next thing I know, I’m laying down in the long, soft grass, staring up at the moon.

I can never have a normal life. No matter what I do, that fact looms over my head indefinitely. I can play at it—go to college, own a business, live from day to day—but I can never own it. I can’t settle down in a place and live there my whole life because I don’t age. I can’t get married because it’s just too dangerous. I can’t have kids because my species doesn’t allow it. I can never live as myself. And it wouldn’t be fair to any semblance of a family I’d be able to scrape together, because my emotions are nothing more than little pinpricks in comparison to human emotions. Certainly not enough to live off of for a family. Tiny pinpricks, the rest of it learned mimicry in order to blend in better.

Maybe, if I had more of my emotions, I’d be like Sans: sad-pretending-at-happy, cracking jokes to be my armor as I try to hide my real feelings.

I reflect on this as the cool breeze sweeps across my skin, sending the grass into a gentle dance all around me. A cloud passes over the moon, blocking it from sight, and I turn my gaze to the stars. While the moon is nothing more than a reminder of my curse, inconstant in its existence in the night sky, the stars are brief sparks of hope. They follow me throughout my days as a comfort, twinkling at me as if sharing secrets.

My eyes, still heavy from sleep and the stress of the nightmare, slowly slide down until I know nothing but darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said "I want to update twice a week?" Cause I sure do. I even decided that I was going to update on Wednesdays and Saturdays, had the next two chapters ready to go, and then oh, you know, MY LAPTOP BROKE.
> 
> The left hinge completely snapped off and locked up, causing the frame to start to pop off. And it wouldn't close. So I had to wait until I could get it fixed because everything pertaining to this story and the Archive is on my laptop.
> 
> Aaaaanyways, updates are Wednesdays and Saturdays.


	7. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tansy learns a little more about Lillia's magic capabilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All known and recognized characters from the game "Undertale" are not mine and belong to their rightful creator Toby Fox.
> 
> I own the plot and any original characters unless otherwise specified.

I am woken roughly and suddenly, hands on my shoulders shaking my body. “Damnit, Lillia, wake up!” My eyes fly open and before I know it, I’m sitting up straight, blinded by the light. Squinting and blinking rapidly, I look around, trying to get my bearings. I’m not in my room. “Seriously, Lillia, what the fuck were you _thinking_?” Tansy is knelt in the grass beside me, hands still on my shoulders. Her pink and blue curls are a wild mess, as if she’d been running her fingers through them frantically, and a little prick of guilt tugs at my heart. “I wake up and your room is _empty_ , the window open, and no fucking note? I’ve been looking for you for an hour now, you bitch!” Tears are streaming down her face, and I reach out and wrap my friend in a tight hug. Tansy resists for a second before slumping into me.

“Shh,” I soothe. “I’m sorry. I had a nightmare and needed some fresh air. I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I’m so sorry, Tans.” She’s shaking in my arms, and I smooth my hand over the back of her head, cradling it to my shoulder.

Abruptly, Tansy pulls back, still looking just as frantic. “No, we don’t have time for this. I got a call from Toriel—she’s the mom of one of my students—saying that her kid, Frisk, is missing. They weren’t in their room. She’s already called everywhere, and nobody’s seen them. She’s beside herself with worry.”

My blood turns to ice in my veins. “I know Frisk,” I tell her, standing up and pulling her to her feet. “I also know they have a penchant for sneaking out and disappearing. C’mon, we gotta get to Toriel’s. I need something to help me.”

Tansy breathes a sigh of relief and that’s when I realize something—she thought that I wouldn’t willingly use my magic to find Frisk. It’s certainly even more dangerous here, in a town comprised mostly of monsters who all possess magic, but if that kid isn’t in town, then there’s really no other option. We take off running, and it’s only after I hit the pavement of the sidewalk that I realize I’m not wearing any shoes. Or a bra. Just a large T-shirt and a pair of small shorts. There really isn’t time to change. Together, Tansy and I sprint up the hill to get to Toriel’s house. The tall goat-like woman is waiting for us, and I see the fur beneath her eyes is wet.

“Oh, Tansy, have you found them?” Toriel calls, wringing her hands frantically.

Tansy shakes her head, climbing the porch step and breathing hard. “No,” she huffs out. “But Lillia can find them.” She bends over, bracing her hands on her knees, and pulls in huge lungfuls of air to try and regulate her breathing.

Toriel turns to me, stepping forward and taking my hands in hers. “Please tell me you’ll find my dear Frisk,” she pleads. “They’ve been missing for hours and I’m worried that something terrible has happened—”

“I will find Frisk, Toriel,” I assure her calmly. “But in order to do that, I need you to calm down. Come on, let’s go inside.” With gentle hands, I guide both the distraught Toriel and the shaken Tansy into Toriel’s house, where I sit them down and make them some tea. I hand each of them a cup and then look at Toriel. “Toriel, I need to borrow something of Frisk’s. Something that they care about, or wear a lot.”

“There is this old, faded ribbon,” Toriel begins after a moment, clutching her tea as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded at this point. “Frisk loves it. They keep it under their pillow. I can—”

“Sit here and calm your nerves,” I cut in gently. “Don’t you worry, Toriel, I _will_ find Frisk. I’m going to retrieve the ribbon and then head out and look.” Toriel hesitates, but then nods and sinks further into her chair. I move through the house until I find the right room, and cross over to the bed. Sure enough, there’s a faded red ribbon tucked under Frisk’s pillow. I pick it up, running the silky fabric through my fingers, and pull in a deep breath. Magic sparks on my fingertips, maroon swirled with bright green, and I concentrate. The ribbon floats up into the air, twisting and turning, before slowly moving and disappearing into my chest.

The ribbon wraps around and around inside of me, becoming less of a physical object and more of a feeling, and I can just faintly hear Frisk’s heartbeat. I can work with this. I’ve had to track down people before—during one lifetime, I made a living out of it until someone discovered I was using magic instead of normal means. Tansy has seen me do this once, when a mother lost her kid in a mall we’d been shopping at. The heartbeat I hear will become louder the closer I get to Frisk. It’s not the most ideal, honestly, because it might take me a little bit longer to find them than expected. I walk back out to the living room, where Tansy jumps up.

“Let’s go,” she says.

I shake my head. “No, Tans, I need you to stay here with Toriel,” I tell her firmly. “You’re just as shaken as she is.”

Tansy frowns, but eventually nods. She sits back down, unlacing her sneakers, and shoving them at me. “Here. Take my shoes.” I half smile and move over to the offered items, pushing my feet into them and bending to tie them quickly. I reassure them both that I’ll find Frisk and set off. I walk down the hill, focused entirely on the faint heartbeat in my ears. I squish my eyes into slits, leaving them open just enough to see where I’m going, and follow the magic. At the bottom of the hill, I turn left and set off down the street, back towards my house. Past the flower shop, through my front yard, around the fence of my backyard, and into the woods. There’s a small, overgrown path that looks like it hasn’t been used in years, covered in branches and leaves.

I hesitate at the edge of the forest. Why on earth would Frisk go in here? The woods are big and mostly unexplored, as far as I can tell. There’s a distinct lack of human presence within them, and though I hadn’t noticed it before, it runs with a faint undercurrent of magic that seems to be coming from the mountain itself. Still, the spell I’m using is telling me that Frisk is indeed in the woods somewhere, so I start walking. I end up tripping countless times, eyes still mostly closed in order to keep a better connection with the magic.

I don’t know how long I end up walking, but eventually, I end up in a clearing at the foot of the mountain. There, standing at the beginning of a little footpath leading upwards, is Frisk. I grin, opening my eyes completely. “Hey, there you are, kiddo!” I call out with a relieved grin. “What’re you doing all the way out here? You have everyone back in town worried sick. C’mon, let’s head back.” Something is wrong. Frisk is stood completely still, hunched forward slightly as if standing straight is just too much effort. The kid is facing the mountain, their back to me, and a pinch of worry sneaks its way through me. “Kid, you good?” No response. I walk closer to them. “Kiddo? Frisk, hey!” I reach out to touch their shoulder, only to be met with sharp, stinging pain on my upper arm, followed by a gush of warm liquid. I stumble back, gasping more from the shock than the pain, grasping at the sizable cut now adorning my pale skin. My gaze snaps back to Frisk, who has turned to face me now. There’s a wide, unnerving smile stretched across their face, the bangs of their bob cut covering their eyes, and it’s only now that I see the knife clutched in their little hands.

Something is wrong. Very, _very_ wrong.

Even now, with Frisk standing right in front of me, their heartbeat is still very faint, as if something else is suppressing them. Eyes narrowed, I immediately find the cause—a heart-shaped locket hung about the kid’s neck. I can _see_ the magic spilling from it, black and viscous, staining Frisk’s skin and clothes. The thing controlling Frisk’s body lunges again, but I’m faster this time. I raise a hand, glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, and pull the kid’s body down to the ground. They struggle silently, hate rolling off them in waves, and I hurry to kneel in the dirt beside them. I unclasp the chain of the necklace and lift it away from Frisk, but it doesn’t seem to help much. There’s only one other thing to do.

“Frisk, kiddo,” I start. “That’s an awful lot of wrath inside of you. I’m gonna have to purge it with pureness, and it’s not gonna feel good. Just hold on for me.” Sweat is beading at my temples, my magic straining slightly. Shit, I need to hurry this up before my mana runs out. I breathe deeply, and then lift my free hand now glowing white, and press it to Frisk’s chest. The kid snarls at me, struggling against my magical bonds, and I push a large wave of pure magic into their tiny body. It floods through them, flowing over, pushing against the black wrath, but not eradicating it completely. Gritting my teeth, I dig further through the awful magic until I find the source. “There you are. One more, Frisk, you’re doing fantastic.” I push an even larger amount of pure magic through the kid’s body, evaporating the source.

Frisk gasps as if breathing for the first time in a long time, before abruptly passing out. I release all of the magic, including my tracking spell, the ribbon emerging from my chest and landing in my lap. My breathing is labored and I hunch over slightly. I haven’t had to use that much magic in a very long time. Thunder rumbles overhead and I mumble out a curse, shaking myself. Right now, I need to focus on Frisk. I gently shake them a little, causing their eyes to open. “Hey, there you are,” I huff out through a smile. Tiny, shaking hands rise into the air and begin signing. I watch tiredly. “Tansy and I got a call from your Mom this morning, saying you’d vanished. I thought we talked about that?” Frisk looks away, sheepish. “I found you standing up on a little ledge. When I called to you, I scared you and you fell. Bumped your head.” Their eyes land on the cut on my arm, and I’m quick to locate the knife and slide it out of sight. “Hey, I’m fine. I tripped and fell, cut it on a rock. Promise.”

A fat raindrop lands on my shoulder, another on my arm, and then on my thigh, falling faster and more frequently. I lift Frisk up, setting them on my shoulders. “C’mon, kiddo. Being in the forest is not something we wanna do during a thunderstorm.”

* * *

We’re both soaked by the time we get back to Frisk’s house, and Toriel is quick to rush us inside. She hugs Frisk frantically, smothering them in towels and blankets. In my absence, several others have shown up at the house, crowding into the living room. I see Undyne and Alphys, Papyrus towering over everyone. Quincy and her son, Quentin are here. My eyes land briefly on Sans, standing in the corner quietly, before Toriel snaps my attention back to her. “Oh, thank you, Lillia,” she says. “Where did you find them?” By now, Frisk has been sent to change into dry clothes.

I smile a little through my exhaustion. “In the woods, near the foot of the mountain,” I reply, holding out the ribbon in my hand. “My guess is that Frisk wanted to climb up and go exploring.” The locket in my closed fist feels heavy, remnants of the wrath it had previously housed still clearly there. “But when the rain started, they realized how dangerous it was.” Little footsteps hurry down the hall, and Frisk, now in a fresh blue and purple striped sweater and a pair of sweatpants, launches themself at me and wraps my leg in a hug. I chuckle. “Hey, kiddo. What _were_ you doing out in the woods?”

They flush and let go of my leg and begin to sign.

Toriel huffs a fond sigh. “Oh, my child,” she says. “I thank you for your kindness, but finding fresh honeycomb can be difficult. Next time, we will go together.” Something about Frisk’s response sits wrong with me. I don’t say anything for fear of giving myself away. Toriel turns back to me, probably to thank me once again, only for her eyes to fall to my arm. I grimace slightly. The rain had washed off the blood from earlier, but it’s still fairly deep, and has started bleeding again. “Oh, child, you’re hurt?”

I smile and shake my head. “I’m fine,” I reassure her. “I tripped in the woods and fell, and I accidentally cut it open on a rock. I bleed easily, so it looks worse than it actually is.”

Little Quentin wanders up, tugging on the dripping hem of my shirt, and I bend down. “You should go to hospital,” he says quietly, and this time, my smile is genuine. “They make your boo-boo better.”

“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him softly. “But my boo-boo will be all better soon.” I bop his nose gently and he giggles adorably, moving to hug my other leg when I stand up. Seeing the lingering concern on Toriel’s face, I say, “Really, I’m fine. I’ll clean it up and bandage it when I get home. Speaking of which, I should probably go home and change.” I look at Tansy. “Are you coming, or staying here?”

My friend hesitates, and then replies, “I’m going to stay here for a little bit. Will you be okay getting home?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine. Oh, here.” I untie her mud-splattered shoes and set them to the side of the door. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.” I bid everyone goodbye and take my leave. The rain hasn’t let up one bit, lighting flashing across the sky ominously. It pricks at my skin, hard and cold, but I don’t pay it any mind. My long hair hangs wetly down around me, sticking to my neck and face, fringe plastered to my forehead. I don’t have enough mana to make an instant portal to the house, so walking it is. I stick to the sidewalk, eyes on my feet to avoid anything sharp or dangerous, blinking the water from my eyes.

Once inside the house, I close the door and strip. I leave my soaking clothes on top of the dryer to take care of later, and move upstairs in just my panties. I go straight to my room, drop the locket onto my bedside table, and into the bathroom, where I turn on the shower. Once it’s nice and hot, I climb in, wincing at the drastic temperature change. Winter is definitely coming, the leaves beginning to change and the winds getting chillier. I stay in the shower until I’m no longer cold and covered in mud, and then climb out. I wring the excess moisture from my hair and put it up in a towel, wrapping another one around my body before moving to inspect the cut on my arm. It’s still bleeding a little, but it's slowing down. A few inches long, slicing diagonally across my skin, and pretty deep. I rummage around in the cabinet under my sink until I emerge with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton pads, I soak some cotton and dab it across the cut, hissing at the sting. I then find a roll of gauze and bind the cut tightly, taping it down with some medical tape.

I put everything away before drying off the rest of my skin and moving to my bedroom. I find a pair of grey sweats and a black long sleeve shirt, tug them on, and then set about blow-drying my hair. It’s a long process that I normally hate, but I don’t want to tie it back right now to keep it from making my shirt damp. I want nothing more than to just curl up and sleep for eight hours, but I haven’t eaten anything at all today. I don’t know when Tansy woke me up, but it’s now almost six at night, so I probably spent a good eight or nine hours looking for Frisk in the woods. Sighing, I walk back down stairs and into the kitchen, digging through the cabinets until I find the bread and peanut butter. I get the jelly from the fridge—raspberry, Tansy’s favorite—find a knife, and make myself a couple of sandwiches. After I clean everything up, I put the sandwiches on a plate and wander out into the living room, collecting the remote as I flop onto the loveseat. I bring a nearby blanket down and around me, snuggling into the warmth, and turn on the TV. I mindlessly flick through the channels, stopping on _Guy’s Grocery Games_ if only to listen to.

By the time I’ve finished my food and washed my plate, Tansy returns home. I hear shuffling in the mud room, followed by the dryer starting, and then my friend walks over to see me sitting in the dark, watching TV. “Hey,” I offer blandly. Tansy flops down beside me, forcing me to move my feet slightly or have them squashed, and I notice that she’s completely dry. “Borrow an umbrella or something?”

Tansy shrugs. “Or something,” is her response. At my questioning look, she sighs. “Sans brought me home. He can do this strange teleport thing that he calls _shortcuts._ Now it’s my turn, Lillia: what happened?”

I wince at the bite in her tone. I should’ve figured that she wouldn’t buy my excuse. Still, Tansy doesn’t know much about the magical world, and I’m always afraid to tell her for fear it will make her freak out. “What do you mean?” I decide on evasion, hoping that Tansy will just eventually give up. “You probably know more than I do at this point. Frisk and everybody else okay?”

Tansy opts to ignore my question, levelling a look at me that says she won’t play my games today. “Don’t lie to me, Lillia,” she finally sighs. “Just don’t.”

“I’m not lying. I found Frisk in the woods.” Unfortunately for her, I can be just as stubborn at times.

“Fine,” Tansy grinds out, “then stop evading the question.” Then she deflates, clearly worn out by all the excitement and stress of the day. Guilt pricks at my chest, because I know I’m partially to blame for some of said stress and excitement. “Just tell me what really happened and I’ll leave you alone.”

I scoff. “Since when has that ever happened?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. Tansy’s only response is to turn off the TV and fold her arms over her chest. Damnit, I’m not getting out of this. I give a heavy sigh. “Fine,” I relent. “I used a tracking spell on the ribbon to find Frisk. I found them in the woods at the foot of the mountain, that part is true, but when I did, they weren’t themself. Actually, I didn’t even see the knife…” I trail off, frowning and struggling to remember details of the event.

“Wait, _Frisk_ cut you? With a _knife_?” Tansy exclaims, leaning forward, hands beginning to reach for the bandage wrapped about my injured arm.

Her voice startles me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a second for the questions to actually sink in. My eyes widen and I rush to clear things up, hands waving frantically in front of me. “N-no!” I stutter out. “Well, yes, but no. It was Frisk’s body, but it wasn’t Frisk in control of their actions. They’d found this—” I conjure the locket into my hand, letting it rest in my palm “—and put it on. This used to be a vessel for a wisp.”

Tansy leans forward to inspect the locket. “A wisp? Are you saying that necklace is possessed or haunted or some shit? By like, a demon?”

I blink. “What? No!” I start laughing a little. “Stars, no, Tans. Demons and ghosts don’t exist.”

Tansy gives me a haughty look and says, “That’s not true. I met a ghost monster named Napstablook just the other day. Nice guy, maybe a little bit depressed.”

“Well, okay,” I concede. “I guess I should explain this better. From what I can tell, monsters are made completely out of magic, like I am. Their forms are just based on different types of monsters—some human-made, others not. Your friend is just a monster modelled after a human-invented idea of a ghost. _Real_ ghosts and spirits don’t actually exist.”

Tansy frowns in disappointment at being wrong. “Fine, so it’s not possessed by a demon,” she huffs. “What the hell was it, then?”

I chuckle at my friend’s behavior. “I already told you—a wisp. A remnant of a living creature that lacks a Soul. Sometimes this happens for various reasons. But they’re not exactly what you humans call a ghost. They don’t possess a Soul, so they’re extremely weak, usually barely even sentient. Nothing more than a—”

“Than a wisp?” Tansy asks dryly, relaxing her shoulder into the couch cushion.

I give a short laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.” Tansy laughs too, and for a long moment, it’s silent. I can feel my weariness tugging at my bones, demanding I go to bed.

But Tansy isn’t done. “So besides being aptly named, are they dangerous?” I hum for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts into somewhat of a cohesive mass, that way I’m less likely to confuse her. It’s probably best that I don’t get into specifics, because I don’t even have all of the answers myself.

“Not usually,” I tell her with confidence, leaning back against the cushions and closing my eyes. “How a wisp behaves depends on a large number of factors. If they had unfinished business, how they lived, how they died. Most wisps are just memories or short messages that the person wanted passed on. But this one…” My face twists into a grimace, remembering the black sludge pouring from Frisk’s skin. “... this one must have lived and died very angry. It was nothing but pure wrath, and when Frisk put the locket on, they basically invited the wisp to use their Soul and body. I ended up having to purge the wrath with pure magic and I dispelled the wisp out of the Living Plane, back to the In-Betwixt where it belongs.” Tansy gives a small hum of understanding.

“You’ve mentioned souls a lot, Lil,” she points out. “Kinda like they’re actual things.”

I open my eyes and twist my chin slightly to look at her. “That’s because they are.” Tansy starts laughing, clearly thinking that I’m playing with her, but eventually notices that I’m not laughing with her.

“Wait, seriously?” She asks incredulously. “You aren’t just pulling my leg?”

I shake my head in awe. I know I’ve never really sat down and talked to her about everything like this, and suddenly regret that. I decide to tell her as much. “You know, I suddenly regret not explaining more of this to you,” I deadpan. Then I sigh and settle in. “Okay, basics it is. Every living being has a Soul. It’s the very culmination of your being. It’s who you are in your truest form. On certain occasions, a human’s Soul can even be pulled from your body in a physical representation.”

Tansy blinks, looking a little alarmed. “Uh, like what circumstances are we talking about, Lillia? Because I don’t need my Soul randomly popping out while teaching class or something like that.”

I snort. “That can’t happen. There are only two reasons for your Soul to form a physical representation. The first is during a fight with a magical being. No one really knows why this happens, but with magical beings and magical attacks, intent is everything. Now, if I were to begin an encounter with… say Papyrus, for whatever reason, and I sent a magical attack at him only meant to tickle, that’s what would happen. If I wanted my magic to hurt him, it would. But with humans, it’s like your Soul can’t tell the difference—it can’t read the intent behind the magic, and takes everything as harm.” The worry in Tansy’s hazel eyes has gotten worse, so I reel it back. “But don’t panic, okay? It’s a practice that fell out ages ago.” Tansy breathes out a sigh of relief. “The second occasion your Soul is pulled out is part of a willing interaction between you and a magical being that you trust enough. Seeing someone’s Soul is sacred, _intimate_ , almost. It should only be done with someone you trust with not only your life, but every inch of your being as well.”

Tansy bites her lip, looking a little unsure. “Can…” She trails off, almost as if she’s afraid to ask. “Can you pull mine out? Can I see it?” I blink, shocked. I just told her that someone else seeing her Soul is very sacred, one meant for absolute trust. Warmth spreads through my chest, chasing away the lingering heaviness, and I smile softly at her.

“Of course. Just relax, okay? You’re gonna feel kind of like a tugging sensation for a second,” I explain, lifting a hand and leveling it at her chest, palm facing outwards.

“Will it hurt?” Tansy asks, biting her lip again.

I immediately shake my head. “No. Absolutely not,” I assure her. “No matter the circumstance, no matter the intent of the one doing it, pulling your Soul out will never hurt. It will just feel very strange.” I smile at her. “Ready?”

Tansy hesitates, then her jaw sets and her eyes flash. She nods at me once. “I trust you, Lil.” She takes a deep breath, and I allow white magic to pool in my palm, the gentle glow ethereal and beautiful. I’m easily able to find Tansy’s Soul, and slowly pull my hand away from her. After a short moment, it emerges, and green light explodes across the room in a brilliant display. Floating just in front of my palm is a small, glass-like heart swirling with green essence, and I smile. Of _course_ she has this Soul Trait and its matching heartsmagic. Tansy is staring at it in awe, jaw dropped. “Oh wow,” she breathes out, watching the little heart float and dance in the air of its own accord. “It’s so beautiful.”

Her fingers lift up towards it, but stop just shy of touching it. “You _can_ touch it, you know,” I tell her quietly. “It is your Soul after all.” Tansy nods and gently runs her fingers over the surface of the heart before lifting her hands up to cup it, laughing and giggling at the sensations the touches must be producing. I clear my throat and try to get back on track. “Anyway, Soul basics. Spellcasters are made entirely out of magic, so our Souls are pure. Humans, on the other hand, are very different. Your Souls are easily corrupted and twisted.”

Tansy is staring at me intently, which makes me shift, a little uncomfortable. “Can I see your Soul?” She asks suddenly.

I don’t even have to think before I give my response. “No.” When the hurt flashes across, Tansy’s face, I realize just how insensitive I was and I rush to fix my mistake.

“Sorry, I overstepped—” Tansy starts, only for me to cut her off.

“No, Tansy, it’s not like that,” I blurt out quickly. Then I sigh, curling in on myself just a little bit. “I physically cannot pull out my Soul.” I grimace. “Ugh, so, remember what I said about spellcasters and emotions?”

Tansy nods, no longer looking hurt. “Yeah, you cast a spell to dampen them,” she replies, and while she’s technically not wrong, her response is just a massive over-simplification of what really happens.

Still, I nod. “Essentially, yeah, but it’s a lot more complicated than that,” I reply, reaching out to take her hand. Her Soul floats back up again, bobbing gently on a non-existent breeze. “The spell we use is called a Bind or Binding Ritual. When performed, it binds the caster’s Soul inside of them, locking it deep and almost completely out of reach. With it goes almost all of our ability to feel emotions. They’re powerful, and when paired with magic or strength, can be dangerous or harmful to others. In order to keep the very strained peace between humans and casters, the oldest and most powerful spellcasters created this ritual. By Binding our Souls and emotions, we also greatly reduced our magic capabilities in the hopes of putting the humans at ease with us. We’re not violent people, and in a fight with humans, we wouldn’t stand a chance. Peace was our only hope.”

Tansy nods slowly, taking in my words, then frowns unhappily. “Wait, so you’re telling me that your magic is uh… weak, I guess?”

I nod, face serious. “With my Soul Bound, my magic has been reduced to about a third of its full potential,” I confirm, voice matching my face. “At the time, it was necessary.”

Tansy clearly doesn’t like my response for some reason. “Couldn’t you unbind your Soul or something?” She asks. “Get your full powers back?” She looks like she’s on the verge of one of her crusades, about ready to start moving mountains in order to help me.

I can’t help the chuckle that slips out. “Firstly, we use the term _mana,_ not powers,” I say before what little mirth had crept into my tone fades out again. “And no, it isn’t that simple. A Binding Ritual is complicated, powerful magic, and it can only be undone by the spellcaster who completed it. I’ve told you that casters don’t have parents before.”

Tansy waves me off with her free hand. “Right, born from magic, given life through magic, raised by volunteers,” she spouts off. “Got it, move on, please.”

I roll my eyes fondly. “We called them Matrons and Patrons,” I tell her, exasperated, pushing her flapping hand down to rest in her lap. “And when I turned eight, I asked my Matron to Bind my Soul. My Matron, at my request, completed the Ritual. Like I said earlier, at the time, it was a necessary step in my life.”

Stubborn, defiant hope flashes through Tansy’s eyes. “You said casters are long-lived, right?” She asks, but continues on before I can answer. “Maybe your Matron is still alive! We could—”

I shake my head slowly, not wanting to do this to her, but knowing I can’t let her run off false hope. “My Matron died when the humans suddenly attacked our community,” I tell her quietly. Tansy looks at me for a moment, face wobbling back and forth between hope and defeat.

“But that’s not fair!” She shouts, settling on indignant anger, apparently. I flinch at the sudden volume increase. Her Soul, reacting to the strong emotion, gives off a burst of green light. Tansy jumps, looking up at the heart bobbing in the air just above our heads. “Oh, shit, did I do that?”

I laugh, despite myself, and say, “Yeah, you did, Little Miss.” Then I think, testing out my mana. Maybe I can just pull this off. “Tans, I can’t show you my Soul, but I can make a representation of it.” Eager, Tansy leans forward and I grin. I lift my hands up, a rainbow of colors blending togethers as I form the illusion that I want. After a few seconds, a white heart appears, hovering just above my upturned palms. It’s the same size of Tansy’s, but a solid, pure white, a soft glow radiating around it like a halo. Tansy gasps in awe. “This is how I remember my Soul to look like,” I tell her softly, straining to keep the illusion in place. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this so soon after using so much of my mana.

“It’s white,” Tansy breathes, looking back and forth between her Soul and my illusion.

I nod. “It’s pureness,” I inform her. “That’s what spellcasters are—pure magic. Because of this, we can use and bend all seven types of heartsmagic to our will. Seven is an ancient, sacred number. There are seven types of Soul Traits, resulting in what we casters call _heartsmagic_ , which match with each Trait.” I gesture to hers. “Human Souls have a tendency to take on one Soul Trait, but because your kind is so disconnected from your Souls, you can’t use the heartsmagic connected with it.”

“What does green mean?” Tansy asks, reaching up to gently boop her Soul.

I smile widely. “Kindness,” I tell her. Delight takes over my friend’s face, followed by a happy grin. I know Tansy has always strived to be kind in everything she’s done, so knowing that her Soul matches with her actions must make her feel validated. “But there’s also Perseverance, Integrity, Bravery, Determination, Justice, and Patience.” When I list each trait, the illusion in my hands changes colors to match, but it becomes too much to hold afterwards. I let the illusion fizzle out of existence before I glance up at Tansy’s Soul. “Here, I think it’s time we put yours away.” Tansy pouts, but doesn’t protest as I guide her Soul back into her body.

The sensation leaves her rubbing her chest and pulling an odd face. “That was… _odd,_ ” she mutters to herself. I laugh a little, but I’m quick to stop when she frowns in my direction. “So, there’s really no other way for you to get your mana back, Lillia?”

And the heavy mood is back. I wince, hating how it feels. The air between Tansy and I is usually filled with laughter or sass or comfort, and for it to feel like this is _wrong._ I hadn’t planned on telling her anything about this, because it’s just a legend—practically a myth. She just looks so sad and defeated and I can’t stand seeing her like this. “Well… there is one,” I start slowly, capturing Tansy’s attention immediately. She perks up again, and I’m quick to tack on, “But it’s just a myth. Spellcaster legend says that if a caster with a Bound Soul meets their Soulmate, the Binding will be broken.” At this point, Tansy is practically _vibrating_ with excited energy, her grin wide enough to reach both ears. I shake my head. “But don’t get your hopes up, Tansy,” I order sternly. “I’ve never seen it happen, and there’s never been a recorded case of such a thing. It’s just a legend.”

Tansy nods, and I let out a small breath, hoping that I’ve curbed the worst of her excitement. Tansy gives me an ornery side-glace. “... I’m so finding you a Soulmate.”

“Tansy!” I whine, shoving her a little.

My brat of a friend dissolves into laughter. “Oh come _on_ , Lil! Live a little!” I sigh and smile, shaking my head at her antics. After a bit, she settles down, and I lean back against the couch and close my eyes again. I definitely shouldn’t have conjured that illusion and held it for so long. “Hey, so another question—what are magicians?”

I snort in derision. “Laughable jokes,” I say, disdain coloring my voice. “Why?”

“I learned at the school that monsters were sealed underground by magicians,” Tansy replies.

I scoff. “Let me guess, seven of them?” I open my eyes just long enough to see Tansy nod before closing them again. “One magician for each Soul Trait.” I sigh. “Magicians were the second attempt at a stronger bond between casters and humans. After Bindings, we sought to create a mediator breed. We thought that if humans and spellcasters could get along in order to form new life, they would see that we weren’t so bad. What we ended up creating was something dangerous—a human with a spellcaster’s magic.”

“Because human Souls are easily twisted,” Tansy recites.

I nod. “By greed and power and a multitude of other sins,” I confirm. “Still, magicians aren’t that powerful on their own. Like humans, they only have one Soul Trait, and can only use the corresponding heartsmagic to that Trait due to the spellcaster heritage. Besides, all of the magicians were born from spellcasters with Bound Souls. That means the magicians back then only possessed a fraction of a fraction of a spellcaster’s magic. Human bodies and Souls can only handle so much magic before they give out and burn up. In the case of trapping monsters underground, I’m guessing they used one magician of each Soul Trait and well-versed in the matching heartsmagic to create a barrier of separation, but the result reduced their Souls and bodies to ash. And any descendants of the ancient magicians probably have nothing more than a pinprick of magic left in them, nothing more than a drop.”

Tansy nods. “Okay. So, lemme get this all straight. Ghosts don’t exist, but wisps do. They’re usually not dangerous.” I nod. “Souls are also real. Every living creature has one. Human Souls have one Soul Trait and can be twisted. Spellcaster Souls are white, because they’re pure magic.” Another nod. “And magicians are humans with spellcaster magic, but aren’t very powerful. Did I get it?”

I nod once again and snicker. “I’ll make sure to get you a gold sticky star.” I reach out and ruffle her curls before a wide yawn breaks out across my face. “And it’s bedtime. We’ve had a busy day.” Tansy snorts and nods in agreement, and together, we make our way upstairs. My bedroom window is still open from last night, and I close and lock it before climbing into bed. All of a sudden, my bedroom door opens again, and Tansy crawls into bed beside me.

“Seriously though, Lillia,” she mumbles tiredly as she turns onto her shoulder, back pressing against mine. “If you disappear on me like that ever again, I’m kicking your ass.”

I snort and turn out the light. “Duly noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this originally wasn't going to be in the story. I had written out the dialogue exchange at for Lillia and Tansy in a notepad in my phone, but never planned on making it a thing. Then the part with Frisk happened, and I knew there was no other way around it. Anyways, good luck!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated when constructive. 
> 
> You are entitled to your opinions, but if you wish to share them just to bring others down, perhaps it is best that you keep them to yourself.
> 
> This website is meant for people who want to share their thoughts, ideas, and talent freely without hate. Please respect them and their works.


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